


A Burning Rose

by lordclover



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Lives, Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), F/M, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Original Character(s), Redemption, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2020-11-07 21:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 154,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20823905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordclover/pseuds/lordclover
Summary: Arthur had always been curious in strangers he's encountered. He's stopped one too many times to talk to people, helped people for no particular reason, and had gotten mixed results. He'd been shot before because of it and met decent folk. At the end of the day he always had a unique story to write in his journal, a memento of his experiences. One day he spotted a horse on its own and decided to investigate. His curiosity leads him to meet a photographer that he'd never expect to find similarities in, yet the more time he spends with her the more he realizes they're kindred spirits.





	1. Arcadia for Amateurs

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an AU of the existing stranger mission Arcadia for Amateurs. I really liked the concept of the quest line and I liked Albert just fine but... I couldn't help but wonder what if it was a different character and that spiraled out of control to this c": The story diverges from Albert's missions early on and will be more expansive.
> 
> If you don't like ocs in existing canons that's totally cool, I get it! If you don't mind I'd love it if you'd still give it a read and if it's not for you I get it! 
> 
> I hope you guys like it!

Arthur had been heading down an empty path towards Strawberry, hoping to find the trapper, when he spotted a horse in a forest grove. He watched as it vanished among the trees and he frowned. Slowly Arthur looked around, searching for a smoke trail. No one was camping, but that didn’t mean the horse was alone.

He spurred Whiskey on, but couldn’t help but look back at the horse. Arthur sighed.

“Let’s just make sure they’re alright,” Arthur told Whiskey. “Ain’t no harm checkin’.”

He knew that wasn’t true, some folks reacted badly to anyone getting close. Yet Arthur couldn’t stop himself from wanting to make sure the horse was accompanied by someone. He was already heading towards Strawberry; he could bring it by the stables if it was alone. Make some money as well.

He guided Whiskey towards where he’d seen the horse and studied the ground to follow where it’d gone. Going hunting with Charles had made him a significantly better tracker. He still wasn’t great, but he had gotten better. He reckoned he’d never be a fantastic hunter, but that didn’t matter much. As long as he could provide food for the gang, he was content.

He spotted the horse not far away; she was standing still then. Arthur dismounted Whiskey and walked over to the American standardbred. She was a gorgeous horse, a dappled tan with a well-kept mane. An expensive horse, but worth every penny. Her saddle and bridle matched her well, both rather expensive. The saddle he couldn’t justify as much as the horse, his own saddle was just as good and half the price. The horse looked up at him, before flicking her ear and looking to the right. Arthur followed her gaze to a woman standing by a camera of some sort. She had soft blonde hair pulled back into a neat bun. She looked completely out of place in the woods, her skirt too clean, her hair too well kept. Arthur frowned at her curiously, unable to force himself to walk back to Whiskey. She said something under her breath and looked up at a bag that was laying a couple yards in front of her camera. He couldn’t stop himself from wandering closer, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

“Morning to you,” Arthur said as he approached, trying not to startle her.

She turned to look at him, her light green eyes evaluating him with one quick look, leaving him taken aback. She was beautiful, a kind of beautiful that made him question why she was here. After being in Valentine for so long, it was strange to see a woman that seemed respectable. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but she wasn’t it.

Her expression was calculated, he knew she was already planning ahead, steps ahead of him. It was the same look Hosea had when he was planning something.

“Hello,” she said, her accent noticeably French. Her voice was silky and so smooth he wondered if she’d ever misspoken.

“Lovely day isn’t it?” she asked. 

“Sure,” Arthur said with a slight shrug.

It was a good day for him, he hadn’t been shot at yet. His standards had gotten pretty low in the past few weeks.

He couldn’t help but noticed the necklace she was wearing. It was partially hidden, the pendant under her shirt. It was an expensive necklace; he could tell even with part of it obscured. He was willing to bet it was at least sixty, maybe more depending on the pendant. He wondered if she’d encountered trouble before, if that was why it was hidden. Surely, she knew that anyone with a keen eye would know its worth even with part of it hidden. Why even wear it?

He’d only spent a second taking this in, but she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. She studied him with an uncertain frown, her eyes drifting to his gun briefly. He waited for her next move, more than willing to leave if she didn’t want him around. In truth he’d probably stolen from people like her, well… there wasn’t any questioning it, he _had. _They’d strayed from their Robin Hood mentality, but Arthur was trying not to rob decent folk. At least when he could, lately it felt like they were forced more and more to do it whatever it took to survive.

She turned back to her camera and Arthur frowned. Wasn’t she afraid? She’d noticed him studying her necklace, yet she had her back to him. She fiddled with something, before frowning again. She looked up towards the bag once more.

“If you don’t mind me askin’, what exactly are you doin’?”

“Photography,” the woman said.

“Figured as much,” Arthur said.

“Of course,” she said with a small chuckle. “You’ll have to forgive me, I am not… well I’m not as good at this as I’d like to be.” She looked back up at the bag and shifted the camera ever so slightly. She studied it again and shifted the camera once more. “I have been photographing wildlife, but… it is a difficult venture.”

She walked away from the camera and towards the bag. Arthur peered over the camera and examined it curiously, before following her. She noticed this and smiled slightly. He returned it instantly.

“Stand here, would you?” she asked.

“Here?” Arthur asked as he walked over to where she directed.

She nodded and then frowned in thought. She stepped in front of him, looked back at her camera, and then put her hands on his arms, shifting him over. He obediently moved and she studied him again. She took a step back, seemingly satisfied. Arthur smiled slightly in amusement. He reckoned he didn’t know much about photography, but he was beginning to wonder just how much she knew.

“Juliette Bellerose,” she said as she offered her hand.

“Arthur Morgan,” he said as he accepted her hand.

She shook his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Juliette said.

“Likewise,” Arthur said.

She started back towards her camera.

“I’m trying to capture images of the great predators in America,” Juliette explained.

“You trying to get yourself killed?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

“No,” Juliette said simply.

“Isn’t there easier things to photograph?”

“Oh of course, monsieur Morgan, but I love a challenge,” Juliette said.

There was a word he didn’t know, _monsieur_. He didn’t have a strong enough grasp on English to know if it was foreign, but he figured it was French. He wasn’t about to ask, unwilling to prove himself an idiot yet.

“Portraits ain’t challenging enough?” Arthur mused.

“Portraits are so dull… people always dress up, they might as well paint a picture, it’d be just as accurate,” Juliette said with distaste. “It’s painfully pretentious as well.”

He wouldn’t call her pretentious, but he was growing more and more certain she’d been around plenty of pretentious people. She certainly didn’t grow up among wildlife.

“How’s that?” Arthur asked.

“People love to pretend they’re something they’re not,” Juliette explained. “But… the truth always gets out, somehow.”

He watched as she fiddled with the camera for a moment. Juliette smiled in satisfaction and stepped away from the camera.

“Thank you,” Juliette said.

He nodded and walked back over to her.

“So how exactly are you planning on photographing predators without getting killed?” Arthur asked.

“I have been trying to make bait out of meat and lay it out far enough that they’ll hopefully be more interested in it than me.”

“That doesn’t sound very safe,” Arthur said.

“I am still alive,” Juliette said with a small shrug. “I’ve lasted longer in America than I thought.”

That was a curious mentality to hear from someone like her. _Still alive. _Why even come out here if she figured she was going to die? Surely someone like her didn’t have to be, must have had options.

“That’s good, I reckon,” Arthur said.

“I’ve gotten some good photos, but I’m afraid I only have one down.” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but she simply smiled. He shook his head as it finally dawned on him. She had a knowing look in her eyes and seemed amused.

“Clever, miss Bellerose,” he chuckled.

“Juliette is fine,” she said. “I’m afraid predators have proven harder than I had planned, although I have gotten several-”

Her gaze shifted over and her eyes widened. Arthur turned to see a coyote at her bag, nuzzling it curiously. Arthur stepped out of the cameras way as Juliette snapped a photograph. The coyote looked up at the snap of the camera. It grabbed the bag and dashed off.

She said somethin’ in a language he didn’t understand, his guess was French but he couldn’t be certain. Her tone expressed enough for him to guess what she was saying, she sounded awfully annoyed by the coyote’s thievery. 

“Don’t worry,” Arthur said as he started to chase after it.

The coyote sprinted up the hill and Arthur followed as close as he could. They went up the hill and down towards an outpost.

“Leave the bag!” Arthur called after it.

The coyote ignored him and ran down to the outpost. Coyotes were fast, but this one was burdened by the bag. It continued for a while further, before finally dropping the bag and darting away. It was lucky, Arthur had considered just shooting it. He walked over to the bag.

“A wildlife photographer,” Arthur scoffed as he picked it up.

He started back through the outpost and towards where she’d set up. Her smile was still at the forefront of his mind. _One down. _He knew she’d called him a predator, but he couldn’t help wonder why she wasn’t afraid of him. She knew he wasn’t just a traveler. Might figure him a bounty hunter, but that wasn’t much better than what he was. He hoped for her own sake she didn’t make a habit of inviting dangerous people to chat. 

As he started down the hill, he spotted her at the camera. She looked up as she heard his footsteps.

“Ah, thank you!” She said. “At least now I know the bait works.”

“Yeah well, bag full of meat will tend to bring out the worst in the local population,” Arthur said as he handed it back to her.

She accepted it, before setting it down by her camera.

“You’re quite the gentleman,” she said.

“Don’t know about that,” Arthur muttered.

“Nevertheless, thank you,” Juliette said. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, the trapper I bought the bait from wasn’t up for much negotiation… but I suppose without much competition that makes sense…”

“No, he ain’t known for bargaining,” Arthur said. “You be careful now; you don’t want to attract the wrong animals or people.”

“Of course,” Juliette said. “I do my best to keep out of trouble.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Arthur said. 

“It is America, the land of trouble,” Juliette said with a smirk. “Who am I to avoid it?”

Arthur smiled slowly, thoroughly perplexed. She seemed a smart woman, yet he couldn’t quite comprehend why she wouldn’t avoid trouble. Hunting predators wasn’t an easy feat, Hosea and him had learned that the hard way. 

“Thank you again, monsieur. I appreciate your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur said as he started back towards Whiskey.

“Take care, monsieur,” Juliette said.

“I ain’t the one tryin’ to get myself killed,” Arthur said as he mounted Whiskey.

“I find that hard to believe,” Juliette returned.

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with amusement, and he chuckled. She smiled and continued to fiddle with her camera. Arthur guided Whiskey back towards the path, smiling to himself.


	2. A Companion of Drunkards Disgraces her Mother

Juliette guided Fleur over to the mail outpost, her gaze slowly surveying the people at it. There was a group of men around one of the tables on the platform, playing a game of poker. There was a man unloading supplies onto the outpost, and a woman in line at the mail window. Juliette dismounted Fleur and led her to the hitching post.

“_Hopefully this will be quick,_” Juliette murmured in French.

She patted Fleur’s neck gently before walking to the window. As she got there, the woman in front of her left.

“Good morning, madam,” the clerk greeted.

“Morning,” Juliette returned. “Has the mail arrived?”

“Not yet,” he said. “Train should be here shortly if you’ll wait.”

Juliette considered this. She could easily just leave and come back the next day, but she was not sure how much longer she intended to stay in this area. She had hoped to leave tomorrow and head East. She had spent plenty of time around Strawberry and had yet to find anything to photograph.

“Thank you, monsieur,” Juliette said.

“’Course.”

She retreated from the window, looking back at Fleur as she considered her options. She needed to get supplies from Strawberry already, but it felt like a waste to go there just to come back. 

“Ay, señorita,” a voice called.

Juliette frowned and looked over to see who had spoken. It was one of the men at the poker table, he had dark messy brown hair, tawny freckled skin, and a mischievous look in his brown eyes. He was wearing a wide brimmed hat that bathed his face in shadows.

“Join us for a round,” he said. “You sound like you have money.”

“Really?” Juliette asked, her tone flat and unamused.

“Sorry miss,” one of the men sitting beside him said. “He ain’t… he’s had too much to drink.”

Juliette surveyed the table for a moment. There were only three people sitting, the man that had called her over had most of the money. She had time to kill and if they were losing to a drunk man, then they could lose to her. She did not gamble often, only when she thought she could win. The table seemed easy, one man seemed drunk and he was still winning against the other two. 

“It is alright, I have time to spare,” Juliette said.

“Well alright,” he said. “I’ll deal ya in then.”

Juliette nodded and took the empty seat.

“My name’s Todd,” he said as he began to deal the cards. “That’s Mac and Seamus… and he’s… what’s your name again, feller?”

“Miguel,” the man that had first called her attention said. “And you are, señorita?”

“Juliette,” she said simply.

She was unwilling to give her last name if they did not offer theirs. Miguel seemed to notice this and surveyed her again with a small smirk. His eyes trained on what was visible of her necklace, before his gaze moved back to Todd.

“Give me a good hand, señor, I need another drink,” Miguel said.

“My friend you’ve had plenty,” Todd scoffed.

It was awfully early in the morning to be drinking. She wondered if he had time to kill as well or if he was simply drinking to be drinking. 

“If you don’t mind me askin’, miss, what are you doin’ all the way out here?” Seamus asked.

She glanced over at him. He was remarkably less interesting than Miguel. He seemed identical to half the men in Strawberry, all honest and working, but indescribably dull.

“Travelling,” Juliette said.

“Just travellin’?” Todd asked. “Ain’t goin’ anywhere in particular?”

“Not at the moment,” Juliette said.

Juliette was still unused to being asked questions like this. Ones that seemed perfectly harmless, but she knew were not. Information was not something she liked to give freely. Edmond called her distrusting. She knew that was true, but she was not a fool. Trusting people was a dangerous endeavor, not something she would grant strangers without a return. 

“Buy in’s two dollars fifty,” Seamus said.

Juliette produced the money and set it on her side as Todd handed each person their hand. The first hand started slow. Seamus folded quickly and Todd followed. Miguel kept raising his bet, unwavering as each card in the middle was revealed. Juliette decided to fold as well. Mac went all in and Miguel met it.

They revealed their hands and Miguel won with a king and a four. Mac groaned. 

"Dammit," he growled. 

Mac left the table irritably. Juliette watched him leave for a moment while Seamus readied the next set of cards. 

"Don't worry about 'im," Todd said. "He is always upset over somethin'." 

The next round started and Miguel began with a low bet, but Seamus still folded. 

“They’ve been playing it safe all game,” Miguel said as Todd folded.

“I ain’t keen on losin’ money to a drunk,” Todd huffed. 

“You already lost most of it, might as well give the rest to me,” Miguel said.

“He don’t get any less annoyin’,” Seamus provided. “Be glad he ain’t singin’.”

“I find him amusing,” Juliette decided.

“That’s the spirit, señorita,” Miguel laughed.

As they played more Juliette slowly began to find each of their tells. Miguel’s became significantly more obvious the more he drank, but he didn’t seemed deterred to stop even after losing two hands back to back. Todd backed out after.

“What do you do?” Juliette asked Miguel.

“I am a bounty hunter,” Miguel provided.

Juliette considered this. She had a hard time seeing him hunting down bounties, but right then she couldn’t imagine him walking straight either.

“He’s pretty good,” Seamus admitted begrudgingly. “Got the rascals that stole my sheep.”

“I don’t remember that,” Miguel said.

“You were drunk then too; your partner did all the talkin’.”

“That sounds right,” Miguel decided.

Seamus left shortly after, leaving only Miguel and Juliette. She had made a considerable dent in Miguel’s winnings, but backed out as she heard the train pull in.

“That’s it?” Miguel asked. “I wanted to win that necklace.”

“You think you would win it drunk?” Juliette mused.

“I’m not drunk yet,” Miguel scoffed.

Juliette shook her head and headed back to the window. The man greeted her instantly.

“How can I help you?”

“I should have a letter, Juliette Bellerose,” she provided.

“Bellerose?” Miguel repeated. “That sounds familiar… do you have a wanted poster?”

“Me?” Juliette repeated in surprise. “I do not, as far as I am aware.”

Miguel considered this as Juliette turned back to the mail clerk.

“These are for you,” he said as he handed the letters to her.

“Thank you,” Juliette said.

She walked back towards Fleur.

Juliette flipped through her mail with a small frown. Nothing she wanted. She had been hoping for a letter from the exhibit manager in Saint Denis, but that was still missing. She needed something better than just landscape photos with a deer in it. It was hardly impressive. Pretty, yes, but anyone with a camera could do it. She needed something… better. What that was, she had no idea.

She considered herself an adequate photographer for the time she had put it into it. It was not easy, but nothing was. She loved the challenge of it, it was completely unique to anything she had done before.

Photography was not something she had ever considered worthwhile until the past year. Ironically it had been her most profitable venture. She’d fallen into it naturally, started only for a hobby, but slowly started to do it more and more. She would be riding down a path and see something interesting and she would stop. She could do that now; she could stop and go wherever she wanted. Before life was moving too quickly for her to stop and look around… Now she could breathe.

It was a strange feeling. At first it had left her feeling anxious, as if she were being left behind. She was so used to being bombarded with new information and problems to solve day after day, never getting a true break. Even parties and galas had a purpose, she could not sit idly by… but she used to like being busy, liked being needed. Now… she wanted to be forgotten.

Coming to America was quite possibly her biggest mistake, one that might get her killed… but it was a mistake she had to make.

Juliette was on her own for the first time and she never regretted it. Slowly she was discovering what she liked, and evidently, that included photography. Was it useless? Not too long ago she knew her answer… now she was not sure. Art had always been a mystery to her. People went to galleries to view art, she had been a few times, but she had never enjoyed it. Now she wondered if she would, if walking down the gallery with a clear mind would help. Juliette liked art well enough, but she had never stopped to look.

“Anything good, señorita?” Miguel asked.

“No,” Juliette said.

“You should buy me a drink with your earnings,” Miguel suggested.

“You need a cold bucket of water,” Juliette readily returned.

“Ay perhaps,” Miguel said. “But I’d rather be drinking.”

“You are drinking,” Juliette said pointedly.

“My beer is empty,” Miguel said. “Tell you what, you buy me a drink and I’ll teach you to shoot!”

Juliette considered this. He was sufficiently drunk already and she doubted he’d remember this deal. Yet… it could come in handy. She did need to learn to shoot a gun better. While she was not against dying in America, she did not want to go down _easy. _She was all too aware she made an easy target.

“You should learn,” Miguel said. “You’ll run into trouble around here, plenty of outlaws wandering.”

“Are you a good shot?” Juliette asked.

“Of course! I am a bounty hunter and I am still alive.”

That was a fair point. He was better than her, which was all that mattered.

“Alright,” Juliette decided. “As long as you do not drink yourself to death.”

“As if I would ever be so lucky,” Miguel cackled.

Juliette frowned. That was awfully morbid. She was getting more used to gallows humor; it was not something she had much experience with before. She glanced around the platform and saw where Miguel had been getting his drinks, on the other side of the mail building was a small store. She bought a beer and brought it back to Miguel.

“I knew I liked you,” Miguel said. 

“Enjoy yourself, monsieur,” Juliette said with a shake of her head.

“You as well, señorita. Try not to get shot!”

“Will you remember this?” Juliette asked.

“Who knows,” Miguel said.

Juliette stared at him for a moment, before returning to Fleur. He was an interesting man. She could not quite understand how he survived, but maybe he was different sober. Her gaze drifted to one of the horses hitched not far from Fleur. It was a paint horse, covered in reddish brown and white splotches. The saddle had bullet holes in it, and rifles holstered to it. There was a lasso attached to it as well, blood staining part of it.

She looked back at Miguel uncertainly, before guiding Fleur towards Strawberry.

There were many interesting people she had run into over the past few months, few of which she got to hear their full story. She wondered if she’d ever learn his.

Juliette led Fleur down the path towards Strawberry, her thoughts drifting to the stranger she’d met days ago. Arthur Morgan. He was someone she wanted to talk to again. Someone she knew she should avoid but found herself curious.

Her mother had always warned her curiosity would get her killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this Juliette's pov introduction! I'm excited to get further in this, I have a lot written already it's just scattered ^^" It's strange to be writing Arthur/Juliette when they don't really know each other, but it's fun!  
I'm trying to decide exactly how I'm going to structure this fic. I'd like to keep it organized and flip between povs like on a schedule almost but... we'll see how that goes.  
Let me know if there's any strangers/missions you'd like to see pop up/be mentioned! I'm planning on incorporating some other stranger missions in the future c:  
Miguel will also be a reoccurring character and he's honestly got some of my favorite upcoming lines  
I hope you guys like it so far!  
Also small note! When Juliette or another character is talking in another language it will be in italics! I will always let you know what language they are speaking at the beginning of the interaction, but just to let you know! It's the best way I could figure out how to handle it bc... there's gonna be three different languages eventually


	3. Detour in Strawberry

Arthur had a calm week, all things considering. He'd spent plenty of time with the camp, doing chores, keeping an eye on things. With John still injured and them down on people, the chores had been piling up. Didn't help half the able bodied men in camp were lazy and good for nothin'. Every now and then he'd think about the strange photographer he'd encountered. Couldn't help but wonder about her. There weren't a lot of folks Arthur cared to learn more about, but she was one of them. 

He'd been considering going back when he'd been told to find Javier outside of Blackwater. He ended up complying, more than ready to get out of camp for a little bit. He wasn't sure how he felt about going back to Blackwater. He'd barely made it out alive the first time, but here he was heading back already. After what happened Arthur wanted to avoid Blackwater for years, not weeks… course Sean was part of the gang; they couldn’t leave him behind. No matter how annoying he was.

He ended up taking a detour through Strawberry. In all honesty, he couldn't explain why. He didn't need nothin' from it and there was a faster route. Strawberry was a strange town to him. It wasn't quite fancy, but it was better than Valentine. Despite this, he didn't stick out much. There were always bounty hunters passing through the town. 

Arthur glanced around the town as he rode through it. The mayor was on the porch of the main building, talking to a bunch of people. His gaze shifted to study the people walking around and he spotted someone familiar. 

“Miss Bellerose," Arthur said in surprise. 

She stopped in her tracks and looked over at him. Her eyes lit up and she smiled slowly. He guided Whiskey over towards her. 

“Monsieur Morgan,” she greeted.

“Surprised to see you in civilization,” Arthur said. “Thought you were photographin’ predators.”

He dismounted Whiskey and walked over to her, leading Whiskey. Whiskey protested, pulling back on his reins, but complied after a moment. 

“Yes well, I still have to resupply every now and then,” Juliette said. “I’m not a very good hunter.”

They walked towards the general store. Arthur checked the walls of the nearby buildings for wanted posters. He knew he wasn't wanted in this county, but some part of him felt compelled to make sure. After Jimmy Brooks, he found himself checking to make sure his reputation hadn't followed him this far East. Dutch seemed convinced all they had to do was lie low and Arthur trusted him. 

“I could show you sometime,” Arthur offered as he brought Whiskey to the hitching post.

He was far from the best hunter, but he’d gotten better after going with Charles. He’d practiced more, going hunting to bring back food for the gang, and chasing down a few of the nearby creatures on the list Hosea had given him.

“I’d like that, monsieur,” Juliette said. “I had a feeling you were a good hunter.”

She led the way into the store and Arthur followed. He blinked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dimness of the room. 

“Predator, you mean?” Arthur asked.

“Perhaps,” Juliette said with a sly smile. 

“Afternoon folks,” the man behind the counter said.

Arthur watched the clerk for a moment, but the man's gaze on settled on Juliette for a moment before he turned back to his newspaper. 

“Good afternoon,” Juliette returned.

The clerk glanced back at her in surprise, but Juliette either did not notice or ignored him. Arthur wondered how often she got asked about her accent.She scanned the shelves and wandered over to the bait area.

“Was I wrong?” she asked, glancing back at him briefly.

“No,” Arthur admitted. “Guess I’m confused, most folks are rightfully scared.”

Predator was the right word for him. He didn't want it to be, but it was. At one point they'd pretended to be good people, but he knew they weren't anymore. They were a bunch of outlaws tryin' to survive a mess they'd created.

“I do not scare easy,” Juliette said simply. Her tone lacked the same humor it had before, it sounded strangely heavy.

“I’m learnin’ that,” Arthur said.

That was something that surprised him. He'd met plenty of women that didn't scare easy, but they were all more or less like him. Grew up from a rough situation and had to learn to survive. He doubted Juliette had the same experience, but he could easily be wrong. He'd been wrong a lot lately. 

“If you want anything, I can pay,” Juliette offered.

“Thank you miss, that’s mighty kind,” Arthur said.

He wandered over to the ammo section and picked a pack of rifle ammo. That should come in handy saving Sean’s ass. 

He turned back to see Juliette examining a book with a slight frown. He walked back to her, studying the book in her hands. He didn’t recognize it, but that wasn’t saying much. At one point Hosea had tried to get him more into reading, but Arthur never got there. 

“Do you read?” Juliette asked as he approached her.

“Not often,” Arthur said. He read the title and the corners of his lips quirked down uncertainly. “’The Picture of Dorian Gray’?”

“Have you heard of it?” Juliette asked.

“No, but I ain’t the book reading type,” Arthur said.

“Fair enough,” Juliette said. “I haven’t ever seen a copy; it was blacklisted for a while.”

“Really?” Arthur asked in surprise. “What’s it about then?”

He hadn’t ever heard of a book being blacklisted. How bad could a bunch of words be? 

“I am not sure,” Juliette said. “But I am curious. I have heard the author was an interesting man… It’s a shame he was ostracized.”

Arthur saw a flicker of sadness in her eyes. It was gone in a split second, fast enough it made him question if he’d imagined it. She set the book back.

"Thought you were curious?" Arthur asked. 

"I am, but... I do not have much extra space," Juliette said. "Part of the downside of travelling."

Arthur never had a problem with it, but he'd also lived this way his entire life. He guessed it'd be hard for someone used to havin' a home. He could easily see her having an entire library in her home, room for more books than he'd ever care to see let alone read. 

She looked up at him.

“Got everything?” Juliette asked.

Arthur nodded. She started towards the counter, carrying some supplies. She set it on the counter and watched as the man behind it began to ring everything up. She handed back the ammo to Arthur once she’d paid and he slid it into his satchel.

“Thank you, miss Bellerose,” Arthur said.

“Of course,” Juliette said with a smile. “I owed you.”

“Don’t owe me nothin',” Arthur said. “Didn’t do much.”

“You saved me a lot of hassle,” Juliette countered.

She reached for the bag that the clerk had packaged her supplies in.

“Let me help with that,” Arthur offered.

“You’re quite the gentleman,” Juliette said. “Maybe I misjudged you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Arthur said instantly. “I’m not much of a gentleman.”

He picked up the bag and let her lead the way back to the door.

“I’d beg to differ,” Juliette said. “You’ve been kind to me.”

“I ain’t… usually this kind,” Arthur mumbled.

“Is that so?” Juliette asked with a curious look in her eyes.

“Yeah, well…” Arthur trailed off.

Juliette pushed the door open and held it for Arthur. He walked out with a slight smile.

“Thanks-“

“Ah, mister, miss!” a voice called.

Instantly Arthur was irritated by it. The voice sounded far too cheery for a stranger. Arthur glanced over at the young man with a frown. He looked barely twenty, his voice chipper enough to belong to a kid. He was holding a stack of pamphlets and held one out towards them. If he was on his own, Arthur would’ve already told him to get lost. Arthur glanced down and saw a cross on the front. 

"Christ," Arthur breathed in frustration. 

"You a Christian, sir?" he asked instantly. “Can I take a moment of your time?” he persisted.

“Taken enough already,” Arthur scoffed.

“Now just hold on a moment,” the man insisted. “Listen here, I got a real good investment opportunity-“

Juliette moved past the man, a look of irritation flickering in her eyes. Arthur followed and the man hurriedly moved after them.

“I promise it won’t take long-“

“Persistent-“ Arthur began.

Juliette looked over at the man with a smile and Arthur stopped.

“Bonjour,” Juliette said to the man and Arthur frowned.

That wasn’t English. She continued to talk in… well he didn’t know rightfully, he guessed French. She spoke fast enough that he could hardly distinguish between words.The man seemed as confused as he was and stayed quiet, staring at her with his mouth slightly agape. Arthur smirked; glad he was at least keeping quiet.

“Oui, monsieur Morgan?” Juliette asked as she looked at Arthur. 

Arthur glanced at her uncertainly. Monsieur he understood, that was a word he'd heard her use before. 

“We?” He repeated. 

Humor flickered through her eyes and he smiled with a shake of his head. She was enjoying this.

“Adieu, monsieur,” Juliette said to the young man, before walking away from him.

“Uh…” he said, his voice sounding dazed. He glanced at Arthur, but Arthur had already left as well. “Right, have a blessed day, folks.”

“What was that?” Arthur asked as he caught up to Juliette.

“I did not want to talk with him, did you?” Juliette asked.

“No, I didn’t,” Arthur said.

“I took care of it,” Juliette said.

Her green eyes had a mischievous glint in them, and Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Guess so,” Arthur said.

That was definitely one way to handle things. He spotted her horse hitched to a post not far away and Juliette headed towards her.

“It may not be the proper way, but… it worked,” Juliette said defensively. 

He surprised to hear her defending it, it wasn't like he had any better methods for getting rid of annoying people. Her way was a lot kinder than his. 

“More proper than my way,” Arthur said.

Juliette glanced back at him with a slight smile.

“What is your way?”

“It ain’t that,” Arthur said.

She chuckled and he smiled.

“Thank you, monsieur,” Juliette said as she took the bag from him.

She carefully began to put away each of the items she’d bought from store into her saddlebag. Arthur watched, not quite ready to leave yet. He knew he ought to hurry and find Javier, but he liked his detour a little too much to leave in a hurry. 

“What are you doing out here?” Juliette asked as she slid another item into her saddlebag.

“Just passin’ through,” Arthur said.

Juliette looked back at him, studying him for a moment.

“Are you a bounty hunter?” She asked.

“Sometimes,” Arthur said.

“Only sometimes?”

Arthur shrugged. Her smile grew.

“Where are you off to now?” Arthur asked as she finished packing.

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. “I was planning on heading East, but…”

“But?” Arthur asked.

“Now... I do not know,” Juliette repeated.

Her gaze flickered back to Arthur.

“Where were you going?” she asked.

“Towards Blackwater,” Arthur said.

Her eyes evaluated him, and Arthur watched uneasily. His bounty poster was still up in Blackwater. Some part of him was afraid she’d put it together, same as Brooks had. He swallowed, waiting for her to call him out.

“That makes sense, you do seem more of a cowboy than a hunter,” Juliette said.

Arthur wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing. She said it without any inflection, but he had a feeling she’d said it intentionally to see his reaction.

“Not wrong,” Arthur said.

He wasn’t about to hide the fact he was an outlaw. It was better she figured it out, realized he wasn’t the right folk to be hanging around. He was willing to bet it wouldn’t take her long, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were bounty hunters out here looking for him. He didn't want her to find out, but he knew it was better if she did. 

He looked back to see Juliette’s gaze trained on someone. Her eyes were narrowed slightly. He followed her gaze to the mayor standing on a porch, talking loudly to several people dressed in expensive clothes. Arthur frowned. He’d remembered the speech he’d heard the mayor giving the first time he’d come to Strawberry. 

“Don’t like him?” Arthur asked.

“I have not decided,” Juliette said.

“Decided on me?” Arthur asked.

She looked back at him, her expression clearing as she smiled slowly.

“I have,” she declared.

“And?” Arthur asked.

He wasn’t sure why he asked, but he found himself waiting for her answer. She answered without hesitation, her smile softening for a brief moment.

“I quite like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm realizing a lot of my writing for them is dialogue heavy but... yknow there isn't a lot of action yet c':   
I hope you guys like it so far! I've got a rough timeline of the fic figured out and I'm excited ! Chapters will progressively get longer, so I'm sorry these are short! I didn't really want to condense them into one/two chapters since they are separate events but I digress   
Let me know what you think so far! Also I'm sort of curious about what your predictions are? I have tried to hint at one or two events that'll happen down the line and a little at Juliette's backstory, but we'll get more on her down the road


	4. Good Company

Juliette had left Strawberry shortly after her meeting with Arthur. She planned to go back, North of Strawberry to be precise, but she wanted to explore more before that happened. She had spent nearly a week there and that had been plenty for her. The town of Strawberry was awfully… wearisome. She had only visited twice but had heard the mayor lecturing on the merits on it far too much. Juliette knew she was jaded about people like him, but she could not stop herself from frowning each time he spoke.

If a town was good, she did not need to be _convinced. _He’d conned plenty of people into coming to Strawberry, she’d heard her fair share from wealthy individuals that had come to Strawberry with the promise it was a wonderful resort town, somewhere that you just had to invest in right away, a town that was getting better every day. Of course, she’d heard that a million times over. It was tedious. She’d been away for nearly half a year now, but the moment she’d heard the mayor’s tone, she was brought back.

Leaving Strawberry behind somehow felt like she was escaping. There was nothing there she _needed_ to escape from, but just the reminder of her old life made her flee. It was pathetic and she was aware of that, but she… was simply not ready. She had not even opened the letters from her family yet, they sat abandoned in her saddle bag. She did not need the questions or the judgement or the guilt… It was unbearable. Each letter sent a flicker of doubt through her, was this right? She knew it was selfish, but she could not stay there anymore. Edmond and Marie never meant to make her feel guilty, she knew that, but their questions of when she would be back, their laments of how they missed her, always struck her hard. The letters from her parents were easier and had lessened considerably over the past month. She had a grim suspicion her mother only wrote to see if she was alive now. She was waiting for Juliette’s inevitable death, tired of telling her what a mistake Juliette was making... Juliette did not know how to explain she was content with this death. In a foreign unknown land, an ocean in between her and everyone she had been so close with. A part of her wanted this, to be forgotten and lost… but that would never happen. As far as she could run, she would never truly escape. Whispers would follow and linger. They had certainly grown quieter, but they were still there.

That day she was wandering along the road, uncertain quite where she was heading. The day before she had followed the very same road East but had not found anything that caught her interest. She had decided to double back and take a different direction at the fork just to see where it led. That was the benefit to having no itinerary, she could simply go wherever when she wished. There was no rush, she could take a moment to breathe.

Fleur was moving at a leisurely speed and Juliette felt no need to spur her on. She felt relaxed, the sun shining down on them both, warming her back. It was a beautiful day, birds chirping, and a gentle wind caressing them. Her gaze wandered, peering around them. She saw a rabbit bound across the road, darting into the underbrush.

As she looked forward again, she saw a familiar figure. His back was to her, but she recognized his hat instantly. His blue shirt seemed dirtier, his boots covered in dust and mud. She smiled slowly.

“Monsieur Morgan,” Juliette greeted.

Arthur turned to look at her, his eyes widening in surprise. He stopped in his tracks. A corner of his lip turned up in a slight smile.

“Miss Bellerose,” Arthur said. “Strange runnin’ into you all the way out here. Whatchu up to?”

“Indeed,” Juliette said with a smile. “I was looking for something interesting.”

Juliette brought Fleur to a stop beside him and looked around for his brown thoroughbred. He was a handsome horse; his pelt had looked almost russet in the sunlight. Not a horse she would easily overlook, but she did not see him anywhere.

“Where’s your horse?”

“Whiskey? He’s uh… in Valentine,” Arthur said.

“Valentine?” Juliette repeated.

Valentine was a town she’d skipped past all together. She had gone around it, only seeing the outskirts as she passed. She knew it was a livestock town with a bad reputation. She had wanted to avoid trouble in it for as long as she could.

“Uh… yeah,” he muttered, sounding embarrassed. “I uh…”

“I will make you a deal,” Juliette decided. “I will give you a ride to Valentine, if you tell me the story of how you ended up stranded out here.”

He stared up at her a moment, his blue eyes shimmering as he smiled.

“Sounds like a mighty good deal, miss Bellerose,” Arthur said with a soft chuckle.

“Excellent,” Juliette said.

She offered him a hand and he accepted it. She was mildly surprised at how rough it felt, but the more she thought about it the more it made sense. He settled behind her and she could tell he debated a moment before gently setting a hand on her waist to hold on. Juliette’s smile grew slightly at his hesitance.

Arthur Morgan was a man she could not easily read. Typically, Juliette was able to understand someone from one look. He was not one of those people. He looked like a gunslinger, someone that would cause her trouble, but his eyes seemed far too kind for that at times. There were certainly moments when she could she see that harshness, as when the salesman had approached them, but it was momentary. She was unsure if she wanted to know the full truth about him, but she found herself inexplicably drawn to him. She just hoped she would not come to regret this.

“I could use some company,” Juliette said as she guided Fleur onwards.

Fleur continued on, reacting instantly. Fleur was the best horse Juliette could have asked for. She did not frighten easy, she was gentle, and responsive. Juliette had worried about relying on a horse, she could not remember the last time she had ridden a horse before America. She had heard plenty of stories about neurotic horses that would throw their riders without warning.

“Sure, you want mine? I ain’t much for company,” Arthur said.

“I am sure,” Juliette said. “I quite like your company.”

“Really?” Arthur asked. “Why’s that?”

He sounded uncertain, almost cautious, as if he was unsure he wanted the answer.

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. She had met several people on her journey that she never cared to meet again. Arthur was one of the few she hoped to run into again. “You are… a very interesting man.”

“Interesting,” Arthur repeated. “That a good thing?”

“I would think so,” Juliette chuckled. “Better than being boring, is it not?”

“I reckon so,” Arthur said.

He said it as if he couldn’t decide if she’d insulted him or not. She certainly didn’t mean it in a negative way.

“Tell me, what is a cowboy doing without his horse?” Juliette asked.

“You sure you wanna hear it?” Arthur asked.

His tone made it clear he wasn’t fond of the story, but she was far too curious to let it go. If he hadn’t wanted to cover it up, she might not have been invested in the answer.

“Yes, Valentine is a long way away,” Juliette said. “Especially on foot. How did you end up all the way out here?”

“Well… to be honest, I don’t rightly know,” Arthur said. 

“You must know some of it,” Juliette said instantly. 

“Yeah, it ain’t exactly… proper,” Arthur mumbled.

“And?” Juliette pressed.

She stole a glance back at him to see he was staring at the ground. He seemed flushed, but it was hard to tell with shadow his hat cast. That was something she needed to consider, a hat. So far, she had been fine riding without one, but she had also been in a more wooded area. Now that she was venturing across more plains, it might be a worthy investment.

“I got drunk last night,” Arthur finally relented. “Went out with a friend and we uh… guess we were bein’ rowdy as the law tried to arrest us.”

“I guess they failed, if you are out in the woods,” Juliette mused.

“I reckon so. Last thing I remember is runnin’ from ‘em. Woke up out here.”

“You ran all this way? While drunk?” Juliette said in amazement.

They were a fair distance from Valentine, she could not imagine how he made it all this way in one night while drunk_. _

“Yep,” Arthur mumbled.

“Arthur Morgan, you truly are an impressive man,” Juliette said with a humored smile.

“One of my many talents, miss Bellerose, I’m real good at runnin’,” Arthur chuckled.

“So I see,” Juliette said. “Next time, try and take your horse with you. Whiskey, was it?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said.

“I like it,” Juliette said.

“You do?” Arthur mused. “Why’s that? Figured you’d like fancier names.”

“Sometimes,” Juliette admitted. Fleur was not a particularly fancy name either, but she liked it. It was simple, but pretty. “Depends on the horse. Whiskey suits him.”

“I reckon so,” Arthur agreed.

They lapsed into silence; Juliette figured his head to be hurting after the night he’d had. It was then that she realized something he had said.

“Where’s your friend?” Juliette asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

Juliette glanced back to see he was staring off into space. He blinked and looked up at her. She smiled and looked forward again.

“You mentioned drinking with a friend,” Juliette said.

The further they travelled; the more impressed Juliette was by how far he had gotten in one night. As they reached the edge of the woods, Juliette heard a train rattling in the distance.

“Right,” Arthur said. “He uh… I don’t remember.”

Juliette chuckled.

“Quite the night,” Juliette said.

“I reckon it was,” Arthur said.

Juliette could see the train then; the road travelled alongside it. Her gaze flickered to it for a moment as the windows rolled by. 

“Too bad you do not remember it,” Juliette said.

“Don’t know about that,” Arthur said. “What I can remember… it was a strange night.”

“You cannot say that and not-“

A gunshot rang out loudly and Fleur frightened, jolting back.

“_Careful, girl,_” Juliette said in French as she steadied her, pulling on the reins to halt her.

Fleur stomped the ground anxiously and snorted quietly, her ears flicking back and forth.

“_You are alright,” _Juliette reassured as she patted her neck.

She looked up as a sharp screeching sounded. The train was shuddering to a stop, sparks flying from the wheels at the suddenness. Juliette looked back to the safety of the woods, but it was too far now to retreat to quickly. They were in a vulnerable spot, their only cover being the train. 

“This can’t be good,” Arthur said.

“No,” Juliette agreed.

She guided Fleur to turn, deciding to risk heading back into the woods. They could take the longer way around-

“Hey!” A sharp voice shouted.

Juliette looked back to see a man on a light gray horse blocking their path towards Valentine. He raised his rifle towards them, and Juliette froze. They could try and run-

She saw a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, but before she could look a loud gunshot sounded near her, loud and deafening. She winced, her ears ringing. Fleur bolted forward. Instantly Juliette moved to slow her, pulling back on the reins. Juliette looked over to see the man on the horse collapsed. His horse was dragging him along, before his body fell loose. His body was left on the ground as his horse raced off.

Fleur let out a nervous noise as she came to a halt. She stepped in place anxiously, wanting to bolt again.

“_Easy, girl,_” Juliette murmured in French. “_Easy.” _

She glanced back at Arthur to see he had a pistol in his hand, his eyes on the train.

“You’re a good shot,” Juliette remarked.

“Sometimes,” Arthur said with a frown. “We don’t want no trouble-“

More gunshots fired off, further away from them, a few carriages down on the train. Fleur let out a distressed neigh, stepping back. Juliette guided Fleur back towards the woods, electing to take the longer way around. As they started back towards the front of the train and towards the road, two men on horses walked out from the front of the train and onto the road. They were holding rifles with masks over their faces.

“Look what we got here,” one of the men said gruffly.

“_What a mess,_” Juliette said lowly in French.

She had known this was inevitable, running into bandits performing some sort of robbery. She had just hoped to prolong her time without it as long as possible. As the bandits drew closer, she tallied up everything she had that would be taken. It was nothing she could not live without… money would certainly be a large hit. She would have to learn how to hunt faster than she anticipated.

“Turn away before it gets ugly,” Arthur said to him.

Juliette glanced to Arthur uncertainly. Was he planning on trying to shoot them both?

The man that had spoken laughed harshly and the other joined in.

“Reckon I warned you both sufficiently,” Arthur said lowly.

This time, Juliette was prepared for the gunshots. She steadied Fleur instantly, reassuring her. As she looked back to the men, they both collapsed.

“Sometimes,” Juliette said with a shake of her head.

She was more than willing to call him a good shot, he’d killed three men with three bullets.

“That is certainly one way to handle the situation,” Juliette said.

She guided Fleur back towards Valentine.

“Better than bein’ robbed,” Arthur said.

“Yes, it is,” Juliette agreed. “Thank you.”

“Least I could do,” Arthur chuckled. “Don’t want to get robbed anymore than you do.”

“You must be feeling better then,” Juliette said. “You did not seem to have any trouble with that.”

“Yeah, well… suppose I am,” Arthur said.

Juliette glanced back to the train. It remained still. She frowned a little, wondering if the conductor had been killed… if he had been, the train would be there for a while. She felt bad for the passengers, uncertain how they would recover from this. Valentine was not far, they could walk and wait for the next train, but…

“I am lucky you were with me,” Juliette decided.

“That so?”

“I was not robbed,” Juliette said.

“Wouldn’t be out this way if it weren’t for me,” Arthur said.

She glanced back at him, wondering if he blamed himself for that encounter.

“Could have run into someone far worse if I continued the other way,” Juliette reasoned.

“Reckon that’s true,” Arthur said.

“Are train robberies common in this area?”

He didn’t answer right away. He was quiet for long enough that Juliette had began to question if he’d heard her. 

“Not too common,” he finally said. “Ain’t many… bad folk out here. O’Driscolls crawlin’ about, but they ain’t much.”

“Is that a gang?” Juliette asked.

Gang was a word she had only heard in whispers around this area. People murmured about the various criminals that roamed nearby, some warned her to look out for them.

“Yep,” Arthur said lowly, his voice filled with disdain. “Awful bunch, best avoid ‘em.”

“I will try my best to,” Juliette said.

She found herself oddly relaxed, even after nearly being robbed. She trusted Arthur more than she should and she knew that was dangerous. He had just saved her, to be fair. They reached the outskirts of Valentine shortly, running into few people along the way.

“Should we tell someone about the train?” Juliette asked uncertainly as they passed the train station.

“Tell someone?” Arthur repeated, as if it was a foreign concept to him.

“The sheriff or the station,” Juliette explained. “Can they do anything?”

“Reckon… I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. “I ain’t ever done that.”

Juliette smiled a little.

“I suppose you did your part,” Juliette said. “Saved us from them.”

“Yeah, well…” he trailed off uneasily.

That was a common trend she was realizing, he seemed to avoid compliments. His tone always shifted to something akin to discomfort. It was strange, really. She could not be the only one he helped, surely, he was used to being thanked?

She took in a deep breath and released it slowly, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her back. It was midday and had grown warmer since she’d first encountered Arthur. Fleur flicker an ear and Juliette smiled, patting her neck gently.

“_You did good,” _Juliette said gently in French. “_Awfully scary for a poor horse.” _

“Talk in French to her?” Arthur asked.

“Mostly,” Juliette said. “Language must not matter to her; I would think she only understands my tone.”

“Guess so,” Arthur said. “Never really thought about it.”

Juliette hadn’t thought about speaking only in French to Fleur, it happened naturally. Whenever she spoke to her, they were on their own and Juliette’s default was still French. She slipped to it naturally, unused to not speaking it daily still.

“Real pretty horse,” Arthur said. “What’s her name?”

“Fleur,” Juliette said with a smile.

Fleur flicked an ear at her name, but otherwise did not react.

“Guessin’ that’s French?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, for flower,” Juliette explained.

They continued down the street towards the main street where most of the buildings were. Juliette guessed that’s where Whiskey would be, somewhere near the saloon. As they passed the first saloon, Juliette glanced around for Whiskey and did not see him. She continued on to the second one, passing by the Sheriff’s office as they did.

“She’s a real good horse,” Arthur said. “Didn’t scare much.”

“She is,” Juliette agreed. “That is the first time she has ever been frightened.”

“That’s pretty good,” Arthur said. “Plenty of standardbreds get spooked real easy.”

“I know,” Juliette said. “When I bought her, the owner warned me of that… but I had already made up my mind.”

Arthur chuckled.

Juliette brought Fleur to a stop outside of the saloon. She felt a strange disappointment to lose her companion already, she’d enjoyed their time together more than she’d expected.

“Thank you kindly, miss Bellerose,” Arthur said.

He dismounted Fleur carefully and looked up at Juliette with a slight smile.

“Anytime,” Juliette said, unable to stop her own smile. “Try not to run off without a horse again, monsieur.”

“Can’t promise I won’t,” Arthur said with a soft chuckle. “But I’ll try my hardest.” 

He stared up at her, his blue eyes shining brightly. He had awfully pretty eyes for a gunslinger, a soft light blue. She wondered if he knew how pretty his eyes were or if it was something, he was unaware of.

“Where are you off to now?” Arthur asked.

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. “Maybe west some, to the grizzlies.”

She had no intentions of heading East again for at least a few days, not after encountering the train robbers. On her own she certainly could not handle them. She owned a pistol but couldn’t shoot it well enough to not be killed while trying to defend herself.

“Be careful out there,” Arthur said. “It’s real dangerous.”

“I will try my best,” Juliette said.

Arthur smiled slightly.

“If you have the time, you should visit,” Juliette said. “I-“

“Arthur,” a voice called.

Juliette looked up to see a young man stumbling out of the sheriff’s office, his gaze on Arthur. He was young, no older than twenty. He was an average height, slim, his skin a warm russet in the sunlight. He had clothes that seemed rather nice but were stained from what she guessed the night before. His gaze travelled to her and his eyes widened.

“Lenny,” Arthur returned. “Give me a minute, would ya?” 

“’Course,” he said, sounding more awake. “Sorry, miss.”

“Hello,” she greeted, amusement flickering in her eyes. She looked back at Arthur. “I will see you around, Arthur.”

“Thank you, Juliette,” Arthur said with a smile.

Her smile grew and she nodded.

“_Let us go, girl,_” Juliette said to Fleur in French.

She patted her neck before spurring her on. Fleur fell into a slow trot and as they passed through the town, Juliette spotted Whiskey standing outside of the saloon. She shook her head with a small chuckle.

“_Try not to let Arthur runaway_,” Juliette said to Whiskey.

Whiskey looked up at her and watched as they passed before turning back to the water trough. 

As they headed away, Juliette realized that was the first time they’d said each other’s first names. It had slipped, but… she was glad it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m literally never going to get over the fact that if you escape the sheriff while drunk during that one mission with Lenny Arthur literally books it and ends up in the middle of no where and ran straight by camp. He’s a wild cryptid man and I love him for it
> 
> I 100% headcannon the only reason Arthur got that far was that he stole a horse halfway through, fell off, forgot about it, ran some more and passed out.
> 
> Let me know what you thought of the chapter! I'm excited for the next one. It's fair to say Juliette doesn't hold to her promise of being careful but let's be real how much trouble can you avoid in rdr


	5. Arcadia for Amateurs II

Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d been as angry as he was. Micah had shot up half the town of Strawberry after Arthur had saved his sorry ass. Now they were both wanted. He’d done him a goddamn favor, and how’d he repay him? Getting his face plastered across Strawberry.

It was more than that. He was far too used to having his bounty poster up, but… he knew Juliette was in the area. She’d mentioned going to the grizzlies, they were just North of Strawberry. He knew she should be North, but he couldn’t stop himself from searching Strawberry. He hadn’t seen in her town the entire time and hoped he’d gotten lucky.

He was wandering around the grizzlies, searching for her.

He couldn’t explain why he was. If she’d seen his bounty… there wasn’t much he could do about it. Nothin’ to say other than the truth. He hadn’t lied to her, but… he hadn’t exactly told her the truth either. Eventually she’d find out who he was… he wasn’t ready for it yet. He guessed he never would be. If he was a good man, he’d tell her the truth. Get it out of the way.

As they continued along the mountain trail, he spotted Fleur not far off. He frowned and guided Whiskey over to her. She was situated far enough from the trail that if he hadn’t been looking, he would’ve missed her.

“Woah,” he said to Whiskey as he brought him to a halt. “Whatchu doin’ on your own?”

He dismounted Whiskey and approached Fleur.

“Where’s Juliette?” Arthur asked.

Fleur flicked an ear and he patted her gently.

“Wait here,” Arthur said to Whiskey.

Whiskey ignored him but remained still. 

He followed the trail Fleur made up the hill until he reached the top. He glanced around and spotted Juliette not far away, setting up her camera in a small clearing of the forest. Immediately he noticed something strange, a large piece of meat was dangling from a branch of one of the trees a distance from her.

“What on Earth are you doin’?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

“Arthur,” Juliette greeted with a smile. “Photography.”

“I have seen photography, I ain’t sure this is it,” Arthur said.

“I’m trying to bait wolves out,” Juliette explained.

“By danglin’ a piece of meat from the branches?” Arthur asked.

“Correct,” Juliette said. “This should give me more time to take the photo while they investigate it. Last time they took the bait and ran.”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed out here,” Arthur scoffed.

Juliette didn’t say anything, but instead continued to mess with her camera. He walked over, examining the bait, before looking back at her.

“You ok with that?” Arthur asked.

He’d thought she simply hadn’t heard him the first time, but he could see thoughts steadily clouding over her eyes.

“Yes.”

Her tone caught him off guard, it was unwavering and serious. He’d been joking, hadn’t meant it. 

“You are?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

I have had to come to terms with dying here already,” Juliette explained. “I did not choose the safest place to come after all.”

“I reckon not… but that’s awfully grim, Juliette.”

“I do not think so,” Juliette said. “I have survived a lot longer than I expected. I was told I would live a week, but here I am months after.”

She glanced over at him with a smile, her green eyes bright.

"I suppose so,” Arthur said slowly. “I reckon I don’t understand.”

“I would rather live with the risk.” 

He studied her. This wasn’t a good place to come travelling, the wildlife was harsh, the people worse. They’d already encountered O’Driscolls robbing a train, but that hadn’t frightened her off. He couldn’t understand why she’d want to live with a risk like that. Could lose everything in day here. It’d happened before, it’d surely happen again.

“Why’s that?” Arthur asked with a curious frown. “Your life not adventurous enough in France?”

She looked away as her smile fell and Arthur instantly regretted his word choice. He’d never been very good at talkin’, always seemed to find just the wrong thing to say. In the gang it didn’t matter much, he wasn’t looking for the right words to say. 

“It was not that,” Juliette said slowly. “I just…” 

She sighed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She had a faraway look in her eyes.

“It is hard to explain,” Juliette finally said. “The people I thought I could trust seemed to always try and deceive me. It was not… not an ideal situation.”

“Don’t sound like it,” Arthur agreed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean ta…”

“No, it is quite alright,” Juliette said. “Believe me, I understand how this looks. I am just someone privileged that ran away from…”

She trailed off, seemingly unable or unwilling to voice the rest of her thought. 

“I don’t believe that,” Arthur said.

“No?” Juliette asked uncertainly.

She glanced back at him; her lips quirked down in a hesitant frown.

“No,” Arthur said.

Her gaze moved back to her camera, unconvinced. Juliette didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You’re in the middle of the woods tryin’ to take a picture of wolves,” Arthur said pointedly. “By danglin’ a piece of meat from a branch.”

“It’s a solid plan-“Juliette began defensively.

“No, it ain’t, but what I’m sayin’ is someone privileged wouldn’t be doin’ this,” Arthur scoffed. “Might send out a servant to do it, but they ain’t doin’ it themselves.”

Juliette smiled, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Don’t like my plan, Arthur?”

“It’s… somethin’,” Arthur said with a shake of his head. “Is this what y’all do in France?”

“No,” Juliette chuckled. “My father might appreciate this however, he’s… well he claims to have hunted before.”

“This one of his techniques?” Arthur asked as he examined the trap she’d made.

It wasn’t anything he’d ever do. He could see John doin’ it. John didn’t have much sense half the time, he’d gotten better with age, but he would always be the type of man to light dynamite and forget it was lit.

“Heavens no, I promise this makes sense compared to his stories,” Juliette said in a reassuring tone. Arthur wasn’t sure he found it very reassuring. “Once he claimed that he lured a bear out by using the same fishing pole he had caught a ten-pound salmon with.”

“He fished a bear?” Arthur said incredulously.

“That’s what he claims,” Juliette said with a chuckle. “In your expert opinion, is that a good way to hunt a bear?”

“In my experience you don’t want just a pole in between you and a bear.”

Arthur stared at Juliette for a moment, considering this.

“You don’t plan on huntin’ down bears, do you?” Arthur asked.

Wolves, he could handle. A bear was a whole ‘nother thing. They were less predictable than wolves, not something Arthur didn’t want to be near without a rifle in hand. He only had a pistol on him, which he was slowly realizing was a mistake.

“No,” Juliette said instantly. “I… maybe one day when I have more experience.”

Arthur shook his head in disbelief.

“You really do have a death wish,” Arthur said.

“You will be there to save me, won’t you?” Juliette asked.

“Reckon I’ll have to be, won’t I?”

She didn’t turn to look at him, but he could see her smile grow. A corner of his lip turned up into a small smile, his eyes softening.

They fell into a comfortable silence after a moment, and Arthur watched as she worked. He’d settled on a rock not far from her, unwilling to leave until the wolves left or she gave up. She asked once or twice how long he planned on staying, and he told each time he had plenty of time and would wait. He certainly didn’t want to leave her to fend off wolves on her own. Besides, he liked the distraction; it was nice to have a moment to rest. Sure, he had to worry about wolves, but it was a hell of a lot better than wondering what the hell Micah would do next.

The bastard had become a bigger problem than Arthur liked. Arthur was willing to wager Micah played a hand in Blackwater going south. He’d always been a hothead, liked to shoot to resolve issues. He didn’t have an issue killing innocent people either, somethin’ Arthur would never like. Dutch seemed to like Micah plenty, and Arthur couldn’t understand it. The worst Arthur had to worry about before was Bill starting trouble, but now he had Micah too. He could handle Bill, but Micah? Micah had shot up half a town just to get his guns back.

“You been to Strawberry recently?” Arthur asked.

“No, why?” Juliette asked.

“Just wonderin’,” Arthur lied.

“I do not like it much,” Juliette said. “It is… a frustrating town.”

“That so?” Arthur asked.

He hadn’t ever heard of a town bein’ described as frustrating.

“Everyone there seems to talk like it is a wonderful place,” Juliette said. “The mayor promises it is a worthy investment, it will be a marvelous vacation town. He’s already tricked several people to coming down to visit.”

That was true. Arthur had run into a real annoyin’ feller that gave him an earful all about it. The fool had gotten himself lost in the woods and needed someone to guide him back to town. Arthur just happened to be that unlucky someone.

“Don’t believe him?” Arthur asked.

“No, he is already looking for more investments in his little project,” Juliette scoffed. “The town’s progress should be able to speak for itself already, he should not need to _trick_ people.”

“Sounds like you know a thing or two about this,” Arthur commented.

“Yes, well… I have met plenty of people like him,” Juliette said. “Far more than I would like.”

Arthur could understand that.

“Why’d you leave France?” Arthur asked. “I mean, I know you said you couldn’t trust people, but wouldn’t it have been easier to move to a new town?”

Juliette smiled bitterly.

“I am trying to run away, only going a town would not be far enough,” Juliette said. “I thought an ocean would be.”

“Is it not?” Arthur asked.

Juliette considered this for a moment.

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. “I fear I am only delaying the inevitable.”

Arthur stared at her for a moment and suddenly it clicked into place. That was why she didn’t mind dyin’. It’d be a different end then the one she was running from. He couldn’t quite understand what she expected, what could follow her across the ocean.

He didn’t like that he could understand that feeling. Running away from somethin’ he knew he couldn’t avoid. He reckoned he’d always known, but it’d become more obvious in the past months. All their past sins were coming back to haunt them. Dutch preached that they were going to make it and all the suffering they’d caused would be good for somethin’… but it’d been a long time since they’d done anything good.

He trusted Dutch plenty. He knew Dutch was working on a plan to get them out of this mess, he just had to trust him… with all the mess in Blackwater, Arthur didn’t know how they’d get out. The Pinkertons were already on their trail again, they’d made that clear when confronting him. Offered him a deal to turn in Dutch. Arthur was a lot of things. Disloyal wasn’t one of them.

Just thinking of it made irritation crawl across his skin as his blood boiled. Milton and Ross. Those were two names he didn’t plan to forget anytime soon.

“What are you thinking?” Juliette asked, bringing him back to reality.

“I reckon I understand,” Arthur said after a moment.

His voice was rougher and lower than he wanted it to be, some of his anger creeping up. That was a side of him he wanted to keep hidden a while longer. Anger was something he always had an issue with. Some part of him was worried it’d consume him one day. With the way things were heading, he wouldn’t be surprised if it did.

Juliette stared at him curiously but didn’t press it any further. He was glad she didn’t, he didn’t have an answer for her. In return, he didn’t ask her anymore questions about it either. They both wanted to ignore it for as long as they could.

He preferred it this way, leaving most of the planning to Dutch. He always seemed to find a way out. Arthur worried a lot more than he should. Couldn’t help it no more. He knew Dutch didn’t like it, Hosea worried plenty for the lot of them, but Arthur was finding out more and more how much he respected Hosea. Always had, but he had a newfound respect for the old man in the past few months. John could learn a thing or two from him.

“Have you seen a lot of wolves?” Juliette asked.

He looked over at her, his interest brought back to the task at hand. He doubted she’d seen many, if any. He didn’t know if there were wolves in France, but he was sure it was a safe bet she wasn’t anywhere near the woods then. 

“Sure,” Arthur said. “Had my fair share of encounters.”

He’d had enough of wolves since saving John’s ass. John had somehow pissed off an entire pack. Got a nasty scar from the ordeal, but he’d survived. Marston was always lucky like that. Caused the worst trouble, but always made it out alive. Usually thanks to Arthur.

“Haven’t been eaten yet,” Juliette reasoned.

“Not for lack of trying on their part,” Arthur said. “A while back I helped a friend from getting devoured… usually they are not great fans of man.”

“No, I cannot blame them,” Juliette said. “How is your friend?”

“He’s recovered just fine,” Arthur said. “Still moans about it, but he’s fine.”

“What happened to him?” Juliette asked. “I suppose he was not trying to photograph them.”

“No, this is a first,” Arthur chuckled. “He just pissed them off, whole lot of ‘em.”

“Did you save him?”

“Course.” 

Juliette smiled a little and Arthur looked over at her, curious as to what made her smile.

“Look,” Juliette said suddenly in a quiet whisper.

She nodded her head forward and Arthur looked to see two gray wolves stalking out of the underbrush.

“Looks like we got company,” Arthur said lowly.

He still wasn’t sure how this would play out. Wolves generally didn’t take well to strangers on their territory. Best case scenario, they’d just run. Worst case, they’d decide the meat wasn’t worth jumping for and go for somethin’ easier. Arthur drew his pistol, aiming at the closest of the batch. Juliette glanced at Arthur uneasily, but didn’t say anything.

The wolves drew closer to the meat, a third appearing. One howled as it circled under the meat and the other two joined in. Arthur shifted forward, careful to keep low. He moved beside Juliette; his eyes locked onto the wolves.

“Stay back,” Juliette said quietly. “I do not want them to think it is staged.”

“It… sort of is,” Arthur said.

Juliette took a photo and the camera let out a snap. The wolves instantly turned to face them, but Juliette seemed undeterred.

“Look at them,” Juliette said. “Magnificent, are they not?”

“Especially when clawing at your eyeballs…” Arthur muttered lowly.

Juliette either did not hear him or ignored him. A sharp growling sounded, and Arthur looked to see one of the three had stalked around to their side. As he glanced forward, he saw the other two had advanced.

“Juliette,” Arthur said urgently.

As she took another photo, the wolves lunged forward. Arthur quickly stood up, pushing her behind him as he shot the wolves. The closest one crumbled to the ground and Arthur quickly shot at the one behind it, before looking to the one at their side. It had retreated, snapping and barking angrily. He lined up a shot with its head and pulled the trigger.

It collapsed instantly.

He looked forward to see two more stalking around them, growling lowly. One was bleeding, the same one he’d shot at. It didn’t seem too bothered by its injured shoulder and instead continued to creep around them, its eyes trained on them.

The two wolves lurched forward and Arthur instantly lined up a shot as they got closer. It took two shots for it to go down, it nearly reached them. The final one backed off as the other fell. It growled before darting off. Arthur lined up a shot as it ran but left it alone as it continued away. If it came back, he’d kill it.

“Hope you got what you wanted,” Arthur said.

He put his pistol back into its holster. He turned to look at Juliette.

“Yes,” Juliette said, sounding breathless.

“Come on, you’re safe,” Arthur said.

She seemed shell shocked, a fair reaction to nearly being attacked by wolves. He set a hand on her shoulder and her gaze connected with his. She smiled slowly. He shouldn’t be surprised by her fast recovery; she’d hardly batted an eye at the train robbers.

“You alright?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, thanks to you,” Juliette said.

“Don’t mention it.” 

He stepped back, his gaze flicking across the underbrush to see if there were any eyes watching them. All the wolves seemed to have either died or ran, but he wasn’t ready to get a scar matching John’s.

“You said you were sometimes a good shot,” Juliette said.

Arthur shrugged.

“You killed-“ her gaze flickered across the wolves as she counted. “Three wolves in less than a minute and you are only sometimes a good shot?”

“Haven’t seen me miss badly yet,” Arthur said.

Arthur was reluctant to call himself a good shot. He was decent, one of the better in the gang, but when he missed it was hard to say he was any good.

“Exactly,” Juliette said. “You killed three of those- who were they did you say?”

“O’Driscolls,” Arthur supplied.

“O’Driscolls, and now three wolves,” Juliette said. “You truly are an impressive man.”

“Yeah, well…” Arthur trailed off. “Plannin’ on baitin’ anything else?”

“No,” Juliette said. “One close call with death is plenty for me.”

“Hope you got a good photo for all that trouble,” Arthur muttered.

“Yes, hopefully,” Juliette said. “If not… well as you said, I could always try bears.”

Arthur looked over her with wide eyes and she chuckled.

“Relax, I am only kidding,” Juliette said.

“’Course,” Arthur said with a shake of his head.

Juliette whistled and instantly he heard Fleur heading towards them. He glanced back in surprise as he realized Whiskey had also come.

“Who called you?” Arthur asked Whiskey.

Whiskey promptly ignored him and followed Fleur towards Juliette. Juliette’s smile grew and she gently patted Whiskey’s muzzle. She said something in French to him and Whiskey closed his eyes.

“He likes you more than me,” Arthur said in disbelief.

Whiskey had been a wild horse before Arthur tamed him and he still had a bit of wild left in him. He’d gotten better, but generally didn’t take well to strangers. Didn’t like anyone in the gang, not even Kieran had been able to win him over yet. Arthur did appreciate that; it was awfully amusing to see the O’Driscoll tiptoeing around Whiskey. He’d gotten real close to bein’ kicked, but had barely escaped it. It was disappointing, but Kieran had still ended up covered in mud.

“You did abandon him in Valentine,” Juliette pointed out.

“Yeah… reckon I did,” Arthur said with a chuckle. “Sorry, boy.”

Juliette moved towards Fleur and rifled through her saddlebag. She produced a hunting knife. Arthur watched as she walked over to the tree the meat was hanging from. Arthur walked over, intrigued.

“Could you hold the rope?” Juliette asked as he approached.

Arthur nodded and took hold of it as she began to cut it. He held onto it tighter as she cut the rope. He was surprised by the weight of the meat, even more surprised she’d managed to string it up on her own.

“Thanks,” Juliette said.

She took the rope from him and gently lowered the meat down until it lied flat on the ground.

“Did you hunt that?” Arthur asked.

“No, I told you I was not a very good hunter,” Juliette said with a slight smile. “When I say I am bad at something, I actually am.”

Arthur chuckled.

“I ain’t that good at shooting,” Arthur said. “Just been doin’ it a long time.”

“How long?” Juliette asked.

“Twenty years, maybe more,” Arthur said.

“That’s a long time,” Juliette said.

“I reckon so,” Arthur agreed.

He watched as she cut the rest of the rope from the meat.

“Whatcha doin’ with that now?”

“Figured I would leave it for the wolves… what’s left, at least,” Juliette said. “I will have to find a better method in the future… I would rather the wolves not die after a photo.”

“Goin’ to try again?” 

“Eventually, yes… I will be smarter the next time,” Juliette promised.

“Smarter?” Arthur repeated. “How you goin’ to do that?”

“I do not know yet,” Juliette admitted. “I will come up with a plan… of some kind.”

“Hope it’s better than stringin’ bait up.”

“I do as well,” Juliette chuckled. “I did not expect it to be flawless, but you have to admit it did indeed work.”

“I… reckon it did,” Arthur relented. “Nearly got you killed.”

“You were here,” Juliette returned.

“And if I weren’t?”

“Maybe the wolves did not like you,” Juliette suggested. “You might be threatening to them.”

Arthur shook his head with a chuckle.

“Y’know, maybe you’re right,” he said. “Sure, they won’t attack you.”

She looked back at him with a smile, her eyes shining brightly in amusement.

“They might not,” Juliette said. “But… I would rather not hang around to test that theory.”

She retreated back to her camera and began to pack it away.

“That I can agree with,” Arthur said.

He watched as Juliette brought the camera back towards Fleur and put it away into her saddlebag. She attached the tripod to the saddlebag and sheathed the knife before hiding it away.

“What exactly are you doin’ this for anyway?” Arthur asked. “Sure no one’s askin’ you to.”

“No, no one is,” Juliette agreed. “In fact, there are more people asking me not to.”

“Sounds like a good reason to be doin’ it,” Arthur chuckled.

“That was my thoughts exactly,” Juliette said with a smile. “Photography can be very repetitive without a challenge to it.”

“This a good challenge? Takin’ the picture before you get eaten?” Arthur mused.

“I think it is,” Juliette said.

She mounted Fleur and Arthur mounted Whiskey. She led the way back towards the path and Arthur guided Whiskey after. Whiskey seemed more than happy to follow them.

“What’d you do to make him like you so much?” Arthur asked. “He don’t like no one.”

Juliette shrugged.

“I am surprised,” Juliette said. “I do not have a lot of luck with horses… there was a steep learning curve to understanding them.”

“Really?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, well… I never had a horse that was mine,” Juliette said. “Not one I cared for and saw day after day. I am grateful Fleur puts up with me.”

Arthur smiled.

“You seem to be gettin’ along alright,” Arthur said. “She seems to like you plenty.”

“She is very patient,” Juliette said.

As they reached the road Juliette turned to face him.

“Until next time, Arthur,” she said with a smile.

“Next time,” Arthur agreed. “Try not to get eaten in the meantime.”

“Oh, I will try not to,” Juliette chuckled.

They started in opposite directions and Arthur found himself smiling for a while after. He’d met plenty of strangers in his time roaming, but none left him feeling quite this way. In all of their time together, he’d forgotten about the letter from Mary waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like i keep saying this but i am really excited for the next batch of chapters with this :3c I have a clear direction for how their timeline lays out with story missions and I'm hyped for it. There's a tiny bit of foreshadowing/story lines hinted at here but nothing major. Also forgive me if Arthur's mission timeline is hard to understand, I'm trying my best to map it out/do research but with how open ended it is it's a little difficult ngl ^^" I'm basing it mostly on the run I'm doing now with a few tweeks here and there  
But! Let me know what you think of it so far! I'm really worried about ocs seeming to oc like (we'll meet a new character next chapter that i'm excited for but) but idk how well that can be avoided when dealing with original content and fan made content


	6. A Bounty as Boundless as the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this will be the end of my nice and pretty format of Arthur Jules Arthur Jules chapters but it's fine i'm totally not bothered by it  
I think it'll just work nicer with this next bit with Juliette tbh, I could squish in a short Arthur chapter but like... it'd be sort of pointless? I also thought the ending of this just offered a good transition to a new chapter and since it was already at 10 pages I didn't want to post like a 25 page thing at least not yet lol 
> 
> But! This is the introduction to my dumb gay bounty hunters who I love and I hope you guys like!! I felt really mean with one line describing Daniel but I think it fits
> 
> Also do you guys like longer chapters or shorter ones? I'm trying to keep all of my chapters uniform length but if you prefer one or the other let me know!

Juliette had done well keeping her promise of not getting eaten. She’d stayed away from predators for the most part. She was not in a rush for anything to attack her again… she would try again eventually, but she had enjoyed simply roaming.

It was calming.

She was still waiting on the photographs of the wolves to be developed, but she had high hopes for them. If everything went well, the gallery in Saint Denis could not turn her down.

Until then, she just had to wait. 

If she were being honest, she was a little bored. Things were nice, but it was unnerving. Things never went this well for this long. Somehow, they’d avoided disaster… or rather, Arthur had. He killed the O’Driscolls and the wolves. Both would have been fatal to her if she had been on her own.

She really needed to learn to shoot.

She had been putting it off. Juliette had thought her death inevitable. She was not one to die easy, but… she was aware of the dangerous terrain she roamed. She was surrounded by predators, but… she was used to that.

“Hey, señorita!”

Juliette looked up to see Miguel riding alongside a man she did not recognize. Miguel was wearing a leather jacket, but otherwise his outfit looked nearly identical to the one he’d worn when she met him. His shirt was gray with thin red lines crossing over it, his bandana a white and red plaid, his dark boots covered in dust.

“Yes?” Juliette asked uncertainly.

She brought Fleur to a halt along the road and waited for them to reach her.

“Want to make some money?” Miguel asked with a smirk. 

Juliette frowned, uncertain quite what to make of this. Usually she was good at reading people, but Miguel she never could get a handle on.

“Not particularly,” Juliette said.

She still had enough money from the last print, and she was certain the picture of wolves would be good enough to at least… make a profit. Money was tight, but she was not about to do anything foolish.

“Ahh it’ll be easy, promise,” Miguel said.

Juliette studied him uneasily, before looking at his partner. He looked like he had been handsome once, but his face was marred with long claw marks that tore across his face. He was wearing an eyepatch over his right eye. The claw marks disappeared under the eyepatch, making it seem like he’d lost his eye in that same attack. The eye she could see was a dark gray, narrowed in distrust. His skin was tanned and weathered. His hair a brown that looked almost black under the shade of his dark hat. He was wearing a dark gray duster coat, a white shirt rolled at the sleeves, and a black vest.

His horse was a large black shire that made him seem taller than he was. The horse had white down his nose and the same harsh dark eyes as his owner.

The man looked her up and down with a frown, visibly sizing her up. Juliette sat up straighter, matching his steady gaze.

“How exactly can she help us?” he asked as his gaze slid back to Miguel.

His voice wasn’t particularly harsh, but serious. He sounded calculating, he was undoubtedly more intelligent than most bounty hunters. He was not someone she would play poker with.

“He’s holed up in his house,” Miguel said. “She can lure him out.”

“You want me to be bait?” Juliette asked.

“Exactly,” Miguel said with a smirk. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You in?”

“I…” Juliette was surprised by how blunt he was.

She was used to people trying to trick her, it was very rare someone was _this_ honest with her. She quite liked it.

“We’ll pay you,” Miguel said. “It’ll be fun! You can see how we work.”

“Fun?” Juliette repeated in disbelief.

“Miguel,” his partner sighed. “I’m sorry, miss-“

“No, no, hear me out, Daniel,” Miguel said hurriedly. “This won’t be like last time, she’s good! I’ve seen her play poker, she is very convincing-“

“Everyone is convincing when you are drunk,” Daniel snapped irritably.

Daniel did not seem to be in the mood to even entertain the idea, but Miguel continued on without hesitation. Juliette couldn’t see how Miguel would change Daniel’s mind. He didn’t seem like the type of person to falter. 

“Maybe,” Miguel cackled. “She’s got a European accent, that’s all it takes these days! People round here aren’t clever. She sounds fancy, right señorita?”

“I suppose,” Juliette said. “Who is the bounty?”

“Alright!” Miguel cheered. 

“I never said I would do it,” Juliette clarified. “But… I am willing to listen to what you are proposing.”

“See,” Miguel said as he looked to Daniel. “She’s perfect.”

Miguel waved his arm at her, as if presenting her. Daniel looked back to her. He looked her over again with a small frown. Juliette watched him closely. His gaze softened some and he sighed. How did Miguel do that? Moments before, Daniel had seemed unwaveringly cold, but then he was almost smiling. He looked back to Miguel, amusement flashing in his eye.

“That’s what you said last time,” Daniel said with a shake of his head.

“What happened last time?” Juliette asked uneasily. 

“Ahh I met a drinking buddy at the bar, another bounty hunter! We got very drunk and decided to work together!” Miguel explained merrily.

Miguel seemed to find it a lot more humorous than Daniel did. Daniel rolled his eye.

“And then he ran off with our bounty,” Daniel huffed. “All that work, wasted.”

“Who could tell? He seemed very nice the night before,” Miguel chuckled. “C’mon, señorita! Have a drink with us and let’s negotiate! You won’t regret it.”

She knew the right answer then. There was no question about it, she should say no, this was foolish and naïve. She was not a bounty hunter; she could hardly aim a gun! …but then again, would she need to? Miguel and Daniel both had to be proficient with a gun to survive this long as bounty hunters. Surely her job would be safe, she could handle luring someone out…

“Alright,” Juliette agreed, the word escaped her before she’d fully considered it.

Despite this, she did not regret it. She had not weighed out all of her options, but… Juliette felt compelled to see what would happen. This could very well end with her getting shot, but for some reason she felt as if this was a mistake she needed to make.

She had made many mistakes the past year, she was waiting to see which one would be her last.

“You won’t regret this,” Miguel said. “Or… maybe you will! But it will be an interesting story no matter what.”

“That’s reassuring,” Juliette said with a slight smile.

“I thought so,” Miguel agreed. “After all, what’s the point in life other than to have a good story?”

Against her better judgement, she followed the two back towards Strawberry. She had been planning on bypassing Strawberry all together, she’d avoided it before on her way to the post office and had planned to do the same heading East. She really was becoming more reclusive. The moment she was left to her own devices, Juliette went as far from other people as she could. Before, she could not make it a day without talking to far too many people. There was never a moment she was truly alone.

Now it was the opposite, most days passed without any conversation. She did not find herself lonely often anymore. For a while it was difficult. There were people she missed and longed to talk to, but… she could not even open his letter.

“Now you sound like a writer,” Daniel scoffed.

Juliette looked up, her thoughts dissolving as she heard the two bicker.

“Ay, if I was smarter, maybe,” Miguel laughed.

“I am surprised you remember me,” Juliette commented.

“I almost didn’t! But I’d recognize that necklace anywhere,” Miguel said with a wink.

Juliette’s hand instinctively moved up to it, but the pendant was still hidden. She could not quite force herself to take it off yet. It was dangerous and foolish to wear it, but… she could not do it yet. She kept few nice clothes, opting instead for outfits that would allow her to blend in more.

“I am disappointed I did not win it,” Miguel said. “It would look awfully nice around my neck. What do you think Daniel?”

Miguel reached across the space between them to hit Daniel’s arm. Daniel’s gaze flickered back to her, looking at her necklace for only a moment before looking forward. He had been the only one out of the three rogues she’d met to not study her necklace. Arthur had, he’d tried to cover it up, but she had noticed. Miguel had as well. Daniel was the only one to simply stare at her head on, uncaring to what she was wearing and the price of it. He’d never been a thief, that was clear.

“You’re makin’ me wish you had a necklace of rope,” Daniel said gruffly.

Miguel laughed loudly.

“He kids, he loves me!” Miguel declared.

Juliette was not sure she believed him. She found herself curious as to how this partnership even began. They did not seem like two people that would work well together, but Miguel had called Daniel his partner. Daniel hadn’t shot Miguel yet either, his patience had to be greater than it seemed.

“How did you two meet?” Juliette asked.

“Miguel had a bounty on his head,” Daniel supplied. “Petty thief.”

That lined up. Miguel had the eyes of a thief; she’d known it the moment he saw her necklace. His gaze was shifty, as if he was always scheming. He’d surprised her in being a bounty hunter, this made… some sense. The transition from thief to bounty hunter was a strange one, but not unheard of.

“Nothin’ petty about it,” Miguel said, sounding insulted. “I stole from a rich family, but their guard saw me escaping! Couldn’t catch me though.”

“I caught him,” Daniel said. “Wasn’t hard neither. Thought he’d be the easiest money I’d ever make.”

“What happened?” Juliette asked.

“He got real annoying,” Daniel said. “Couldn’t stand him. Decided it wasn’t worth the money and I let him loose. But he didn’t leave. Followed me all the way to town.”

“That is the beauty of my friendship,” Miguel cackled. “It is not easy to get rid of!”

“You’d be surprised at how useful he can be,” Daniel said to Juliette. “He’s proven himself a good bounty hunter.”

“That the only reason you keep me around?” Miguel asked with a smirk.

Daniel rolled his eye, but Juliette stared at him curiously. There was more to the story, she knew there was. Daniel did not seem the type of man to keep someone around he didn’t like. 

Juliette surveyed the guns they each had holstered to their saddles. Daniel had two rifles, one with a scope, the other without, and what looked like a shotgun. Miguel had only one rifle, without a scope, and a shotgun. Briefly Juliette wondered if Daniel’s aim would be better or worse from a distance as he was missing an eye. It was not a question she was willing to ask; she was plenty aware his aim had to be better than hers even if his depth perception was off.

She was not willing to test his patience, but he seemed considerably nicer than she had expected. He had answered her question about meeting Miguel, she did not think he would. She had presumed Miguel would be the one to tell her.

As they continued down the road, Daniel and Miguel continued to talk. She would phase in and out of their conversations, often times not listening fully. Juliette would look up each time she heard the sound of hooves to see who it was, and each time found herself disappointed. Of course, it was early to run into Arthur still. Their encounters typically had a few days in between and only two had passed since she had last seen him. Somehow, she already wanted to talk to him again.

Once they reached the town, Miguel led the way to the saloon. Juliette had no doubts he frequented it often. He dismounted his horse and without waiting, went straight up the stairs. Juliette led Fleur to the hitching post beside Miguel’s horse. His horse was about the same size as Fleur. His horse was mostly a dark brown, with splashes of white.

She dismounted Fleur and hitched her to the post.

“_I will be back soon_,” Juliette murmured in French to her.

She patted Fleur’s neck gently.

“You don’t have to do this,” Daniel said.

Juliette glanced up to see he was leaning against a beam, waiting for her.

“I know,” Juliette said.

“This won’t be easy,” he continued.

“I never said it would be,” Juliette returned steadily.

A corner of his lip turned up ever so slightly. A miniscule change, but she saw it.

“Daniel Burrows,” Daniel said as she walked over to him.

“Juliette Bellerose,” Juliette said.

She stepped up onto the porch to stand beside him. He offered her his hand and Juliette accepted it. They shook, seemingly coming to an understanding.

“Hope you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Daniel said as he turned back towards the saloon.

Her gaze flickered down to the pistol on his belt for a moment.

“So do I,” Juliette said.

She could hear his voice chastising her then, _how do you always find new ways to terrify me? _Juliette truly had never meant to scare him, she simply reacted. She did not scare easy and refused to be intimidated. Juliette could not imagine writing an honest letter back, telling him she had seen a train robbery, taken a photo of wolves, and now went to a bar with bounty hunters… and Arthur?

She would continue to lie to them… what other choice did she have? 

Juliette followed Daniel into the saloon. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the lighting. She noticed quickly the saloon was nearly empty, the only other people there was the tender and a group playing poker at one of the tables. Miguel was at the counter and had already ordered a beer. Daniel walked over to order something. Juliette hesitated a moment, before following him over.

“What would you like, ma’am?” the bar tender asked, his voice gravelly.

“Nothing,” Juliette said.

“Nothing, señorita?” Miguel asked incredulously.

“I am not keen on drinking in the middle of the day,” Juliette said.

“Get shot enough and you will be,” Daniel said.

Juliette studied him as the bar tender poured him a drink.

“I hope I never do,” Juliette said with distaste.

Daniel glanced over at her.

“I hope so too,” he said. “It’d be a safer bet if you weren’t helpin’ bounty hunters.”

“Why are you trying to scare me off?” Juliette asked. “Afraid I’ll run off with the bounty?”

Daniel chuckled roughly.

“Afraid you’re gettin’ in over your head,” Daniel said. “No offense, but you don’t look like you’ve ever held a gun.”

“I thought that’s what you two were for,” Juliette returned.

He smiled slowly.

“Yeah, what if we miss the shot?” Daniel asked.

“I will figure it out,” Juliette decided.

“Where’d you find her?” Daniel asked Miguel.

“I don’t remember,” Miguel laughed. “It was that day we got the Cree brothers.”

Daniel shook his head.

“Come on, let’s sit down and talk,” Daniel said.

Juliette nodded. She followed him as he led the way back to one of the tables. She took a seat across from him and Miguel sat in between them. Juliette crossed her arms, waiting patiently for the two to decide to explain it. Daniel rubbed at his eye tiredly before looking at Juliette.

“You’re from France,” he said as a statement rather than a question, but still stared at her expectantly, waiting for a response.

“Yes,” Juliette answered, unwilling to offer more than what he wanted. 

“You seem eloquent enough,” Daniel said.

“I would hope so,” Juliette said.

She had to talk herself out of situations before. It was a skill of necessity back then. She had not needed it recently, the only time she had gotten close was when bartering with the trader. She was pretty sure it had hurt her then more than it had helped, he had thought she was trying to trick him. He had warmed up to her on her next visit but was still wary.

“Any good at deceiving people?” Daniel asked.

“Depends who it is,” Juliette said. “Are they intelligent?”

“Not particularly,” Daniel admitted.

“Then I will be fine,” Juliette decided. “Who are they?”

“Owns a farm out near Valentine,” Miguel supplied. “One of the guys did somethin’ or another during a deal and got caught.”

“Something or another?” Juliette repeated.

“It was illegal,” Miguel said with a shrug. “Must’ve been pretty bad too, he’s got a hefty price on his head-“

“Forgery,” Daniel said. “He forged some documents on a horse, sold it for nearly triple what it was worth.”

“Triple?” Juliette repeated in astonishment. “How did he get away with that?”

“He didn’t,” Daniel said pointedly. “The guy figured it out pretty quick, went runnin’ for the law. ‘Course the sheriff didn’t particularly care much about a horse that was oversold. So he put up a bounty. The guy, Conner Davis, has been hiding out on his ranch ever since. Hired guns roam all over it, naturally. There already were a bunch of farm hands, but ever since news broke of the bounty he’s hired more.”

Juliette nodded.

“We were thinking we needed a way to bait him out into the open, far enough from the ranch that we can get ‘im,” Daniel explained. “Shouldn’t be a hard sell, he doesn’t seem very smart.” 

“So all you need to do is trick him into going on a walk with you and then we ride up and tie ‘im up,” Miguel said.

He took a long drink from his beer.

“How much is his bounty?” Juliette asked.

“A hundred,” Daniel said.

“Really?” Juliette asked with a frown. “That seems high.”

“It would be, but this isn’t the first time he’s done it,” Daniel said. “Sheriff’s been racking up all of his charges. Everything before now has been pretty minor, drunk and disorderly, horse theft-“

“Horse theft is minor?” Juliette asked.

“Around here it is,” Daniel said. “A tennessee walker goes missing no one bats an eye.”

Juliette supposed that made sense, but… Juliette was awfully attached to Fleur. She would not take horse theft lightly. Fleur had been her only companion over the past months, the only constant she could rely on. Some part of her knew it was ridiculous to be so attached to a horse, but she was. Fleur was gentle, kind, and reliable, something Juliette desperately needed. It was nice to have a companion she was not constantly doubting and worrying when they would turn on her.

“That is unfortunate,” Juliette said.

“We ain’t got the resources out here,” Daniel said. “This isn’t Saint Denis, all we got is a sheriff and some deputies. Neither are exactly clean themselves.”

Juliette studied Daniel uncertainly.

“What do you mean?” Juliette asked.

Daniel and Miguel exchanged a look.

“Let’s just say… his backyard ain’t empty,” Daniel said.

Juliette felt a chill run across her skin.

“Right then,” Juliette murmured. “How would the money be split?”

“Forty, forty, twenty,” Miguel said.

Juliette considered this. It was not a bad take for what she would do, her part was simple enough. She could convince someone to leave a house, could she not? She convinced smarter people of far more, this should be easy.

“Well?” Miguel asked.

“I will do it,” Juliette decided.

“Really?” Daniel asked, surprise rising in his tone. “You sure?”

“I am,” Juliette said. “How hard could this be? Just… try not to get me shot.”

Daniel smiled slowly and exchanged a look with Miguel.

“Can’t promise you won’t be shot at,” Daniel said. “But we’ll do our best.”

That was good enough for Juliette.

They continued to talk and strategize for a while longer, until the sun began to fall, and more people wandered into the saloon. As it got busier, they decided to leave. They planned to meet in Valentine the next afternoon and head to the ranch together. Daniel would find a spot to watch over with his rifle, while Miguel would wait for Juliette to lure Davis over.

It all seemed simple, almost too easy.

As she walked out of saloon, she noticed something she had missed earlier. There were two bounty posters nailed to the wall. Juliette stared at them uneasily before approaching them.

“Señorita?” Miguel asked. “Where are you going? We already have a bounty.”

She studied the bounty poster with a frown. The man it depicted was eerily familiar, his eyes harsher, his mouth in a scowl, but it was him.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Daniel asked.

“I do not know,” Juliette murmured.

She tore the bounty off of the wall, studying it closely. It was unmistakable.

“Arthur Morgan?” Daniel said as he read the name. “Calm down, we got an easy bounty. Don’t go after the worst.”

“The worst?” Juliette repeated.

“Don’t know of him?” Daniel asked.

“No,” Juliette said uncertainly. “Who… is he?”

Miguel watched Juliette closely, evaluating her response. Daniel frowned, but answered her.

“Just hope you never meet him.”


	7. The American Way

_ Just hope you never meet him. _

Those words had been ringing in her mind ever since she left Strawberry. She had wanted to ask more questions but had found herself unable to. Juliette was scared of what their answer might be.

_Don’t go after the worst. _

They were bounty hunters; she had no doubts they knew his sins better than she did. Undoubtedly, they had a long list, not one she was eager to see… Juliette had known from the moment she’d met Arthur that he was not just another traveler. She had been avoiding the truth for as long as she could, hoping for the best. It was naïve and foolish, but every part of her journey had been. Every turn she made; Juliette chose the wrong answer. She’d been conditioned to weigh out the odds, to avoid these mistakes, but now she was purposefully taking them.

It would get her killed, she had no doubt, but she was tired of being careful. Tired of being tricked… Arthur had at the very least never deceived her. She had not asked him directly and hadn’t planned to… now it was not as easy to pretend it was not there.

She had played herself a fool, ignoring all of the signs. He was someone she should avoid, but she found herself inexplicably drawn to him.

They continued on along the forest path, heading for Valentine. As they passed under a set of tracks, a train roared by overhead. Fleur started but calmed easily.

“_Do you think he has ever robbed a train?_” Juliette murmured in French.

Fleur flicked an ear and Juliette sighed.

“_You are right, he probably has,_” Juliette said. “_He did save us from the… O’Driscolls…” _

She trailed off as she considered this.

“_Do you think he’s in a gang?” _Juliette asked hesitantly.

Of course, Fleur did not answer. Juliette found some peace of mind just being able to voice her worries to her, even if Fleur would never respond. The road was empty, no one was around to call her unsound.

“_You are not an outlaw, are you?_” Juliette asked with a humored smile.

Fleur shook her head, her reins jingling.

“_Of course, you are not, you are perfect,” _Juliette chuckled.

She patted Fleur’s neck gently.

They continued down the path, eventually reaching a river to cross. Fleur hesitated a moment, before following Juliette’s direction across. Juliette spotted a small camp set up on the opposite riverbed, a horse standing near it. Her gaze slid back forward.

“_Why do you think he approached us?_” Juliette said, her voice quiet.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. There was no avoiding her questions anymore, the discovery of his bounty poster had made it impossible for her to ignore it any longer.

Even at their slow pace, they reached Valentine early. She had left Strawberry sooner than she should have, but she had heard the mayor speaking and had the urge to go as far as she could. Juliette had used to think people who ran from their problems were cowards, now… she was one of them.

Juliette brought Fleur to a halt at the beginning of the main street.

Now what would she do?

She glanced around, wishing for Arthur to appear. As soon as she realized this, she grimaced. She should not be wishing for an outlaw to be around, but… she enjoyed his company. It did not help that she was waiting on bounty hunters, if he did show up, she would have to warn him…

Juliette shook her head, trying to ward off her thoughts. She did not have enough information, all she knew was he was an outlaw, but one that had been far kinder than anyone else she had met. Why couldn’t he have just shot her? That would make everything a lot easier.

It was then that Juliette heard shouting. She frowned and instantly guided Fleur towards it, her eyes narrowing. She followed the sound down the main street. She dismounted Fleur and took her pistol from her saddlebag, before continuing towards the sound, heading between the stores lining the main street.

She continued back until she could see the backs of houses. She looked around as the man shouted angrily again. She spotted the source of the noise; a man had a woman cornered outside of a house.

“Just what the hell were you doin’? Skulkin’ around?” the man demanded.

The woman’s gaze darted around, searching for a way out. She was young, early twenties, with blonde hair in a partial up do, and dusty clothes. She spotted Juliette and Juliette’s gaze moved to the man. He was older, and even from their distance she could smell alcohol rolling off of him.

“Monsieur, would you kindly back away from her?” Juliette asked, her voice rigid and laced with anger.

The man turned on her, his gaze harsh.

“Just who the hell are you?!”

“None of your concern,” Juliette said with a frown.

“Stay out of this, before you get hurt,” he snarled.

Juliette frowned and aimed her pistol at him, hoping the threat would be enough. He stared at her, unimpressed.

“You even know how to use that?” he asked.

“Well enough,” Juliette said.

She watched as the woman slowly snuck away from the man, putting a distance between them. The man stepped forward threateningly and Juliette noticed the knife in his hand. Quickly, Juliette aimed her pistol to the ground and shot.

Instantly the man howled in pain and fell against the house, supporting himself against it. Juliette stared at him in surprise, glancing to see blood pouring out of his foot. She had not meant to shoot him, only scare him.

“Crazy bitch!” the man snarled.

He moved forward again, and Juliette aimed for his head again.

“I have more than one bullet," Juliette warned. 

The man studied her with an angry scowl, considering it. Juliette saw a familiar horse come to a halt in front of the house.

“Walk away,” Daniel said coldly.

The man turned to look at Daniel, and instantly his posture changed. He was afraid. Naturally he was not afraid of the woman that shot him, but Daniel saying two words? That was enough.

Juliette wasn’t sure if she should feel glad or insulted. She was used to being underestimated, but she had just shot the man! The man swore lowly but didn’t move at first. Daniel glared down at him, drawing his revolver. The man’s gaze fixed on it.

“The sheriff’ll hear about this,” he snarled before stalking off.

Juliette watched him for a moment, before looking around for the woman. She had vanished, but Juliette supposed that was for the best.

“The hell was that?” Daniel asked.

“He was threatening some woman,” Juliette explained.

“His wife?” Daniel asked as he glanced to the house.

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. “She looked too young to be married to him.”

Daniel nodded uncertainly.

“This town ain’t great, you’d be wise to avoid trouble,” Daniel said. “She coulda been a thief or a prostitute.”

“And?” Juliette asked.

“And she left you to take the consequences of whatever she did,” Daniel said pointedly.

Juliette considered this for a moment. She truthfully had no idea if the woman had done anything, she could have killed someone for all Juliette knew, but… that did not make her regret her decision. The woman had been cornered and scared, so Juliette stepped in.

“I made my choice, she made hers,” Juliette decided. “But… thank you.”

“Yeah,” Daniel grumbled. “You should be more careful, Valentine ain’t a good place.”

“Believe me, I have been sufficiently warned,” Juliette said. “I heard it was cursed.”

“If you believe that sort of thing, sure,” Daniel scoffed.

“I do not, but it is curious,’ Juliette said.

Daniel studied her. Juliette whistled for Fleur and waited a moment before spotting her rounding the corner from the main street. Behind her followed Miguel on his paint horse. He smiled widely as he spotted her.

“Ay, señorita!” Miguel said. “I was looking for you! Saw your pretty horse!”

“She shot a guy,” Daniel said. 

Fleur stopped beside Juliette and Juliette mounted her. She slid her pistol back into its holster, then into her saddlebag.

“You did?” Miguel asked in surprise. “Look at you, finally getting used to America!”

Miguel laughed heartily and Daniel smiled slightly.

“I suppose I am,” Juliette mused.

“As long as you don’t shoot us,” Daniel said.

“I am not that foolish,” Juliette promised.

“Let’s get going,” Daniel said. “Before there’s a bounty on your head.”

Juliette nodded. Daniel led the way out of town, spurring his horse on into a trot. Miguel and Juliette followed his lead.

As they left, Juliette spotted the woman standing outside of one of the buildings along the side of the street. Juliette smiled slightly, glad to see she was at least safe.

She caught up with Daniel and Miguel, Fleur matching their pace easily. Her thoughts went back to Arthur, an ongoing trend for her in the past day. She looked up to Daniel and Miguel. It was hard to bring it up naturally, without arising some suspicion. But… they had information she wanted; information she wasn’t sure she could get anywhere else.

“Do you remember that bounty poster I found yesterday?” Juliette finally asked.

“Morgan? Sure,” Daniel said. “Haven’t seen him, have you?”

He glanced around them uneasily, before looking at her. It was as if he’d scanned the area for Arthur, to make sure they were… safe. That only gave her more questions. He was an outlaw, but that did not necessarily mean he was a bad person… it was very dependent on what he had done.

“No, nothing like that,” Juliette said. “What do you know about him?”

She looked around as they approached the same road, she’d ridden down Arthur with. She glanced to the train tracks; they were empty, lacking a train and the robbers to follow it.

“He’s got a big bounty on his head in Blackwater,” Daniel said. “Robbed a train up north.”

“He did?” Juliette asked in surprise, looking back at him.

“Don’t you read the news, señorita?” Miguel asked.

“Have not had a chance lately.”

She had been avoiding it for the most part, unwilling to spend the money. Most of her news came from other people, warning her of potential threats. It was not the best method, but the alternative was newspapers, which was typically behind. She did not have the same extensive network as she did in France, but she preferred it this way.

Daniel rifled through his saddlebag and produced a newspaper. He tossed it to her, and Juliette caught it. She scanned through it and Fleur continued after Daniel and Miguel’s horse without guidance.

There was not much information, no names of the assailants or even details of what was stolen. It was practically useless to her.

“How do you know he was involved?” Juliette asked. “There are no names listed.”

“It’s obvious. It weren’t no O’Driscolls, there were survivors. Only other gang that was north was his,” Daniel explained.

So, he was in a gang after all.

Juliette slid the newspaper into her saddlebag, her heart feeling strangely heavy. That had to mean his crimes were intentional, not an accident or a mistake. She had known that, but without the clarification of it she could pretend it was a possibility. Now… it was not as easy.

“Why was his bounty poster the only one?” Juliette asked.

There had been a second, but she had not bothered to look at it. She found herself wishing she did, but… perhaps it was better if she did not know.

“It ain’t,” Miguel said. “In Blackwater the entire group’s got their faces plastered up. Out here they’ve mostly stayed out of trouble… besides that train robbery, but it wasn’t a passenger train.”

Somehow, that made it better to her. He was better than the O’Driscolls then… she could rationalize this. Stealing money from someone with plenty to spare was something she could at least understand, it was not driven by malice at least, not taking from those that were barely scraping by simply because he could.

She never expected to be weighing out the morals of robbing a train. It should be black or white, but with him it was not. She _wanted _him to be good, more than an outlaw.

She contemplated this the rest of the ride, only occasionally listening into Miguel and Daniel’s conversation. They split off of the path to climb up a hill that overlooked the ranch. Juliette could see people roaming the ranch but could not make out anything distinct. Daniel pulled out a pair of binoculars to study the people below.

The ranch was not very impressive, but it was a fairly decent size. The main house was situated in the center of the compound, with a few smaller buildings scattered around it. There was a large barn across from the main house, near the perimeter of the fence. She counted three paddocks inside the fence line, two with cows in them, and one with horses.

“See ‘im?” Miguel asked.

“No,” Daniel said. “Still hiding inside.”

Miguel nodded with a slight frown. 

“Look over there,” Daniel said.

Juliette and Miguel looked up to see a figure standing on the road on the opposite side of the compound from them. Juliette could make out what looked like rifle slung on his back. The man tipped his hat to them, before riding off.

“McClelland?” Miguel asked.

“Yeah,” Daniel said. “Guess he’s been scoutin’ him out too. Looks like he’s leavin’… wonder how long he was waitin’.”

“Think he’ll come back?” Miguel asked.

“Dunno,” Daniel admitted. “He’ll probably check on us… we’ll have to be careful bringing Davis back to Valentine.”

“Why? Would he steal him?” Juliette asked with a frown.

“Depends,” Daniel said. “If he rounds up some of his buddies, probably. I doubt they’ll do that; I’ve heard they’re lookin’ at the Van der Linde gang again.”

“Van der Linde?” Juliette repeated.

“The gang Morgan’s part of,” Miguel explained. “High bounty on their heads. Apparently, McClelland’s seen some of their boys out on their own. Told ‘im it’s suicide to go after one, but… reckon we’ll see.”

Juliette considered this uneasily. She would need to remember that to warn Arthur.

“I got a good vantage point from here,” Daniel said. “I’ll stay up here and watch over you while you’re in there, Juliette. Miguel will wait down there-“ Daniel pointed to behind a barn on the outskirts of the ranch. There was a large boulder not far from it, a good hiding spot for Miguel. “And you just gotta lure Davis out to it. Can you manage that?”

“Of course, I can,” Juliette scoffed. “Just do not me get shot.”

“I’ll do my best,” Daniel said.

“Reassuring,” Juliette said.

“I won’t lie to you,” Daniel said. “Can’t guarantee you won’t be shot.”

“Still trying to scare me off?”

“Maybe,” Daniel admitted. “Don’t want any more blood on my hands.”

“Then do not miss,” Juliette said.

“I like your spirit, señorita!” Miguel laughed. “Let’s go.”

Juliette and Miguel started back down the hill. They split off as they got closer, Miguel heading to his hiding spot, and Juliette heading towards the main path. She started towards the ranch’s entrance, gathering her courage. She had been in worse situations before, but it had been a long time since she had done anything remotely similar to this. She hoped she had retained some of her skill, that it had not all abandoned her the moment she left.

As she drew nearer to the ranch, she noticed a few ranch hands wandering around. One of them took notice of her. He looked young, his skin an uneven ochre, burned and freckled from working under the sun. He wasn’t wearing a hat, likely a proponent in his skin damage. He walked over to her as Juliette into the compound.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asked hesitantly.

He stared at her with uncertainty flickering through his dark brown eyes. His shirt was stained by grass and mud, his boots covered in dust. She noticed he did not have a gun strapped to his belt. She looked over to the other ranch hands and saw a few sporting rifles and pistols, but none had the same hardened look as Daniel and Miguel.

“Cadence Beaumont,” Juliette greeted. “Could I speak with monsieur Davis?”

“Connor?” the man asked uncertainly. “Connor Davis?”

“Yes, he is the owner, is he not?” Juliette asked with a frown as she surveyed the ranch. “I am sorry to be short, but I do not have much time to waste. I was told monsieur Davis would be here and I had a… business proposition for him. I am afraid it is quite time sensitive, if he is not available I will just need to find another-“

Juliette glanced back towards the exit with a frown, trying to seem impatient. She’d found acting as if she did not have time gave her answers quicker, people listened to her the first time and she did not have to repeat herself. 

“Now, wait- wait just a moment,” the ranch hand said hurriedly. “I’m sure I can find him real quick. Would you like to come inside?”

Juliette surveyed the area with distaste.

“No, that is quite alright. I need to be going soon,” Juliette said.

“Oh- alright, yes, ma’am, you just wait a moment,” the ranch hand said.

Juliette nodded and dismounted Fleur. She followed the man towards the main house. She brought Fleur to the hitching posts, but did not hitch her to it, in case she needed a quick escape.

“I’ll go find ‘im,” the ranch hand said to her before hurrying back inside.

Juliette nodded and watched as the heavy oak door fell closed behind him. She glanced across the porch and spotted a man sitting in the shadows. He surveyed her with a frown, distrust flickering in his blue eyes. He seemed tall, but it was hard to tell while he was sitting. His nose had a sharp hook to it and was a prominent feature of his face. He had a sandy complexion, his skin covered with freckles.

Juliette promptly ignored him, and instead let her gaze travel around the ranch. It was quite nice, not horribly impressive, but nice regardless. If she were looking for a ranch to invest in, she might consider this. It was small and needed some maintenance but had potential. If enough was invested, it would give her complete control over it to use as wished. If the ranch flopped, the land was good and decent, it could be held onto and sold again as Valentine expanded-

Juliette shook her head, irritation flashing through her. Her own thoughts were a stark reminder to why she left. 

She heard a sharp squeaking of the door’s hinges as it swung open. Juliette looke d back at the man, looking him up and down. He was average height with a sturdy build, he looked to be in his mid-fifties, his dark hair had streaks of gray throughout it. His jaw was square, and he had a short beard, showing more gray than his hair did. His skin was weathered and aged, similar in shade to wheat under the shade of the porch. He had a brown wide brimmed hat in his hand.

“Miss Beaumont, I take it?” he asked in a thick southern drawl.

She was still getting used to the accent in this area, she had run into many people where their accents were so thick, she could barely understand them. Out of everyone she’d met, she had the easiest time understanding Miguel. Arthur and Daniel, she could understand fairly well, but every now and then she would have to take a moment to think what they’d said.

“That is correct, and you are monsieur Davis?” Juliette asked.

“That’s right,” he said. “You ain’t from here, are you darlin’?”

“No, I am not,” Juliette said, forcing a thin smile. “I do not plan to stay long either, I am just looking for somewhere to invest in before nothing is left.”

“And you’re lookin’ at our quaint little ranch?” His words sounded modest, but his tone was proud and boastful. It made Juliette want to express all of the issues with his quaint little ranch she saw, but she needed to remain cordial.

He had the voice of someone that lied without realizing it, embellishing every story to satisfy his ego.

“Yes, I am,” Juliette said. “I wanted something safer than Saint Denis, and there is nothing safer in America than a ranch.”

“I reckon so,” he said with a wide smile. His teeth were tinted yellow, one of his front teeth had a chip in it. “Our little ranch is filled with potential. If you’d like a tour of it.”

“Yes, please,” Juliette said. “I cannot stay long, but I would like to get an understanding of the place. I heard you raised the most magnificent horse.”

“Ol Storm? Hell, he was quite the stallion! Best one we’ve ever bred,” Davis said. “Sold him for a deal, he could’ve been famous, but y’know how it is… hard to negotiate with folks that don’t know his worth.”

“Of course,” Juliette agreed. “I would be able to help with that as well, negotiate better deals and find better partners to trade with-“

“Where’d you say you were from again?” a low gravelly voice asked.

Juliette looked over at the man settled on the porch chair. He was glaring at her. He looked like a guard dog about to strike, just waiting for the command.

“I did not,” Juliette said. “I am from France-“

“And you’re interested in this dump?” the man asked.

She glared at him, her irritation rising as he cut her off.

“Hush now, Stewart,” Davis snapped. “Don’t scare off this fine woman.”

Stewart slunk back in his seat, but still eyed her uneasily.

“I don’t trust her, Connor,” Stewart said. “Why do we need investors? We’re doin’ fine-“

“If this is all you want from life, then I will gladly leave,” Juliette said. “I am looking for someone with ambition not someone complacent.”

“We ain’t complacent,” Davis said hurriedly. The way he said the word complacent made her wonder if he understood what she had even said, if he had just repeated it. “Ignore him, miss Beaumont. Follow me, ma’am, I’ll show you around.”

Juliette nodded and let him guide her around the ranch. He showed her everything and talked far too much about it. She was not particularly interested in anything he said, but she did her best to pretend to be. She was very good at seeming interested in things she was not. It was a necessary skill she’d honed over the years. Men with large egos loved to explain things as if they were hard to understand.

Eventually they reached the edge of the ranch and Juliette spotted a ranch hand carrying a rifle wandering the edge of the field.

“What are they for? Do you have poachers?” Juliette asked.

“Not in a long time,” Davis reassured. “Ain’t no one that cocky no more. We got more guns to protect ourselves since our last big deal. Y’know how it is, folks get awfully jealous of success out here. Got outlaws runnin’ around, lookin’ to steal from us hardworkin’ folk.”

She did not believe for a moment he worked hard anymore. She was willing to bet it had been decades since he last really worked. 

“Of course,” Juliette agreed. “I did want to discuss a problem I saw I was riding over, if you will follow me.”

“Problem?” Davis repeated. “What problem?”

“Well it should not be a big deal if it is taken care of quickly, but… well it is a lot easier to explain if you see it,” Juliette said. “I am sure you just have not ridden past it in a while, but… it is concerning. I almost left upon seeing it, but I had heard such good things I decided to investigate more. Believe me, I am glad I did, but… we still need to discuss it.”

“Really?” Davis asked in astonishment. “I reckon I’ll have to see it myself then. These ranch hands ain’t all that good, they see a problem ‘n ignore it unless I get onto ‘em. ‘Course you must understand that. We operate on a lick and a promise round here unfortunately, ain’t never enough time.”

She did not know what that expression meant, but she did not bother to ask. There were many expressions she just did not understand and ignored. She had asked once what an expression here had meant had gotten a long and confusing explanation that made her regret ever mentioning it. She’d learned her lesson.

“Yes,” Juliette said.

Juliette walked back to Fleur and mounted her. Davis mounted a dark brown Tennessee walker and followed as she guided him outside the border of the ranch. She led him along the side of the fence, heading towards the point she’d discussed with them. The entire way he tried to reassure her any problem she saw, he could fix easily.

“This the spot?” Davis asked.

“Yes, you see-“ Juliette began. She glanced around for Miguel expectantly. He did not appear. Juliette grimaced; she was going to have to come up with something. “The wood that patched this part of the barn is discolored, I heard there was some wood sold with rot it in it and I am afraid you got a batch of it. I can only tell without the paint, you see, if there is more… it is an expensive mistake-“

She saw a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye and turned in time to see a lasso loop around Davis and drag him to the ground. His horse instantly bolted a short distance.

Juliette frowned.

“That seemed rough,” Juliette said as Miguel left his hiding spot.

“He’s fine, señorita,” Miguel said. “Little bruise never hurt no one.”

Juliette looked back to the ranch uneasily, but she did not hear any alarms being raised.

“Yes, bruises do hurt,” Juliette said.

“He is an outlaw! Do not worry about him,” Miguel said.

“What the hell is goin’ on?!” Davis demanded.

“Oh, I am sorry monsieur,” Juliette said. “You see the real problem was, I had heard you had a bounty on your head. I wanted to make sure.”

“You- you tricked me!” he said indignantly.

“What took you so long?” Juliette asked Miguel.

“I liked your story, señorita!” Miguel laughed. “It was pretty convincing, I will say! Wood rot.”

Miguel tied Davis up and lifted him up over his shoulder. He whistled and his horse hurried over.

“I had to come up with something quick,” Juliette said. “You took your time-“

“You’ll pay for this,” Davis snarled.

“No, we will get paid for this,” Juliette corrected.

Miguel laughed as he set Davis on the back of his horse. He mounted her.

“Let’s get out of here before we get shot,” Miguel decided.

Juliette nodded and followed as he led the way back towards Daniel. Davis protested a few times but quieted each time Miguel hit him. Davis threatened a lot, but Juliette found herself unafraid. He wasn’t very intimidating tied up.

Daniel was waiting for them at the top of the hill, his rifle in hand. He was watching the ranch through the scope but looked up as they reached him.

“Nothing?” Miguel asked.

“Nothing,” Daniel confirmed. “This might be our easiest bounty yet. You did good, Juliette.”

“Juliette?” Davis demanded. “Are you even French?!”

Miguel hit him again.

“He is not very happy to be tricked,” Miguel said to Daniel. “I told him, if he were smarter this would not be an issue!”

“You’ll regret this,” Davis snarled.

Daniel rolled his eye.

“They like to threaten when we got ‘em tied up,” Daniel said to Juliette.

He led the way back towards the path and they followed.

“Or plead,” Miguel added.

“I’ll pay you,” Davis said. “How much my bounty? Eighty?”

“Ahh there we go! The third, option, bargaining!” Miguel said. “It never works, but they always try!”

“Real surprised we didn’t get shot at,” Daniel commented. “Figured with all the hired guns, he was expecting us.”

“I am glad we were not, I would rather not be shot.”

“It is not so bad, señorita! And you get to drink after,” Miguel said.

“You drink even if you don’t get shot,” Daniel scoffed.

“Maybe!” Miguel chuckled. “I drink even more when I have been shot!”

Juliette shook her head in disbelief. She glanced back down the road towards the ranch, part of her expecting someone to start shooting at them. Nothing happened, but she couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t over yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm trying to get better with doing more character descriptions but yknow i haven't cracked the code yet  
Ik it's better to build on throughout the story so I'm trying to do that more, describing a character more thoroughly after they've been introduced... but whatever 
> 
>   
if anyone's interested I drew Daniel over on my tumblr! Blood warning for it so if that makes you squeamish don't click
> 
> <https://lordclover.tumblr.com/post/188398758926/havent-been-doing-inktober-this-year-but-i-liked>
> 
> <strike>also low key would anyone be interested in a rdr writing discord? </strike>


	8. All that Glitters is not Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My issue with dialogue persists in this where there’s too much dialogue without a description break but… to be honest I just wanted to post it instead of editing it more. 
> 
> Also I'm finally trying to do real chapter names?? a wild concept. I haven't 100% decided if they're all going to stick to the same theme or not, I want to have Shakespeare quotes and what not bc... juliette... and of course some bible shit bc rdr2 does that with their own mission names and i like it
> 
> I enjoyed writing this chapter a lot, I hope you like it too!

Arthur made a mistake. One he’d never made before. For the first time, he was late getting a loan back. Arthur didn’t particularly like Strauss’s methods, but it got the gang money, so he always complied in acting as the muscle to scare folks into paying up. Usually Dutch sent Bill or Javier, they both enjoyed it more than Arthur, but the both of them were busy. So, Arthur was tasked with it.

He wasn’t proud to admit it, but he’d gotten distracted.

First Micah shot up Strawberry and then… well he ran into Juliette. Somehow that encounter had cleared his mind completely of what he was supposed to be doing. He couldn’t explain it. If he could do it again, he’d do it exactly the same.

When he reached the Downes’s farm, he found the bastard a breath from death in bed. Threatening him did absolutely nothing, he’d barely even noticed Arthur enter the room. He’d ended up just taking what little valuables he could find and calling it a day. Didn’t look like they had much even if he wasn’t bed ridden. He was the same guy Arthur had seen in Valentine begging for people to donate money. Ain’t like he had anything to spare himself.

Arthur was finding that was a common trend in Strauss’s victims. He had to shake them down, always felt like he was stealing money from a beggar. Didn’t like it much, but he was used to dirty work. If they were in a better placed, they wouldn’t have to be doin’ this type of thing. Yet this was where they were, jus struggling to survive.

He left their small farm and headed towards Valentine, planning to visit Mary along the way. She’d sent him the letter over a week ago, nearly two now. He didn’t know how to react to it. Mary was someone that knew how to play him better than anyone else. She’d broken his heart more times than he cared to count. Left him without much thought.

Couldn’t blame her.

As he passed through the main street, he looked up at the stand Downes had been frequenting. Miserable bastard wouldn’t be botherin’ anyone much longer. Arthur reckoned he only had a couple days left, maybe less. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already died.

Bad way to go, an incurable sickness. Arthur would rather go down shooting than coughing.

Whiskey shook his head as Arthur tried to spur him on. Arthur tightened his grip on the reins, regaining control over him. He frowned down at Whiskey.

“What’s wrong, boy?” Arthur asked.

He patted Whiskey’s neck.

Whiskey seemed to calm at that and followed Arthur’s direction without complaint.

“Just wanted attention?” Arthur mused.

As they reached the edge of the main street, Arthur glanced to the left, where the house Mary was staying was at. He sighed, lacking the motivation to continue on. Not long ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated. He would have been at her doorstep immediately, like a damned dog. She had that effect on him, she would call him, and he’d always come and sure as the sun would set, she would cast him a side again.

He didn’t know why he did it. Each time he went, he expected the same result. There was a time when they were young, he was just foolish enough to believe she’d be able to love him. Now armed with the truth, he knew he was just an idiot. She’d never love him, not really. Some part of him wondered if she ever did. If he’d just been her latest interest, a way to rebel against her family… he wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but it was hard to tell anymore. She’d played him a fool far too often.

“Move out of the way,” a voice called irritably.

Arthur glanced over to see a wagon trying to pass through. Arthur glared at them but moved to the side of the road. He didn’t have much fight in him then. He sighed.

“Arthur,” Mary Beth called. “Where you goin’?”

Arthur looked up, looking for her. He spotted Mary Beth outside of the smaller of the two saloons in Valentine. She was standing on the porch, leaning against the fence. Arthur guided Whiskey back over towards her.

“Thinkin’ about seein’ Mary,” Arthur muttered. “She sent me a letter while back…”

“You still haven’t visited her?” Mary Beth asked in surprise. “She sent the letter two weeks ago.”

“I know, I know,” Arthur grumbled. “What’re you up to? Didn’t think you drank during the day.”

“I don’t,” Mary Beth agreed. “Had a… interesting morning.”

“Interestin’?” Arthur repeated. “Find anythin’ good?” 

“No,” Mary Beth said. “I tried to snoop around one of the local houses, but the owner caught me. Got me cornered outside, thought he was gonna kill me.”

“You ok?” Arthur asked as his eyes narrowed. He looked around for the man but didn’t see anyone questionable. “Need me to take care of him?”

“No, no,” Mary Beth said with a slight smile. “This woman saved me. Strangest thing, Arthur. No one in this goddamn town gave a damn, but this woman just appeared from around a corner, demanded the man leave me alone, then shot his foot.”

“Shot his foot?” Arthur repeated. “Why his foot?”

“Don’t think she meant to, I think she wanted to scare ‘im,” Mary Beth chuckled. “She seemed awfully surprised to see blood.”

“Couldn’t even shoot,” Arthur scoffed. “Who the hell would pick a fight they couldn’t win?”

He knew many people that would. John, Bill, and Sean came to mind immediately. But they were outlaws, they tended to pick too many fights. He couldn’t see anyone that lived in Valentine sticking their neck out for anyone.

“I didn’t know if I should be impressed or not,” Mary Beth said. “It seemed… well stupid, but I reckon it worked.”

Arthur shook his head and glanced back to the main street, surveying the people that were out. The veteran, Mickey, was sittin’ where he always was. He looked like he was asleep, but Arthur would be sure to give him plenty of room if he passed. Last time he spoke to the feller, he’d asked for a damned hug. Arthur didn’t know how to react to that, frankly still didn’t.

He didn’t hug people, hadn’t since he was a boy.

“She was real pretty,” Mary Beth remarked. “Had the most beautiful accent too. Real refreshin’ to hear in this town, everyone sounds-“

“Accent?” Arthur repeated with a slow frown.

His gaze jumped back to Mary Beth, his entire focus on her.

“Yeah, French I think,” Mary Beth commented.

He stared at her for a moment, concern weighing his thoughts down. He wanted to think Juliette wouldn’t be that reckless, but… she’d strung up meat to bait wolves out. She _was _that reckless. He doubted there was another French woman that would do somethin’ like that, it had to have been Juliette.

“She get hurt?” Arthur asked.

He was trying his best to sound natural, but panic tore through him. Mary Beth studied him uncertainly and Arthur was worried for a moment she’d see straight through him. She was real good at that, it always caught Arthur off guard. He understood Abigail and Hosea bein’ able to read ‘im, he’d known them for an awfully long time. But Mary Beth? She hadn’t been round that long.

“No, thankfully,” Mary Beth said. “I was real worried she’d get herself killed for me, but this man showed up, awfully scary lookin’. He was missin’ an eye, had this horrible scar cross his face. Made John’s look like nothin’. He scared the man off real easy, just took one look and he went runnin’… can’t blame ‘im neither.”

Arthur considered this uneasily.

“Nothin’ bad happen?” Arthur asked, his voice more strained than he’d like it to be.

His gaze hunted around for Fleur but didn’t see her anywhere. His frown deepened.

“No,” Mary Beth said. “It was strange, they seemed to be friends.”

“Friends?”

What kind of trouble had Juliette gotten herself into this time? Now he was wishing he’d pushed off debt collecting even longer. If he’d gotten here just a little sooner, he coulda stepped in. Stopped… whatever the hell happened.

“Where’d she go?”

“South,” Mary Beth said. “She went with them, they were talkin’ about somethin’. Couldn’t hear much, but figured it was better to stay away. Looked like bounty hunters if you asked me.”

Arthur nodded and guided Whiskey back towards the street.

“Where you off to?” Mary Beth asked in surprise.

“I gotta do somethin’,” Arthur said. “I’ll catch up with ya later.”

“Alright,” Mary Beth said uncertainly. “What about Mary?”

“She can wait,” Arthur said as he started down the street, heading South.

He searched the road as they headed down South. There was one main road leaving Valentine, but it split off into separate paths. He took his best guess and hoped for the best. Luck was on his side, after a few minutes he saw a group of riders heading his way. Arthur spotted the man Mary Beth had meant immediately. It was unmistakable, he had a black eyepatch of his right eye, and a deep scar across his face. Looked like somethin’ big mauled him. Not a wolf, the wound seemed deeper. Could be a bear, but Arthur reckoned if it was, he wouldn’t have much of a face left. 

He instantly scowled at Arthur; his dark eye narrowed in distrust. He said something to his companion and Arthur watched as they both reached for their guns. Neither pointed it at him, but they seemed ready for a gunfight.

They knew he was. Had to be bounty hunters.

Arthur continued towards them, careful to keep his hands clear from his guns. As he drew closer, they didn’t say anything, but instead moved to the side of the path, watching him warily. Juliette looked up at them with a frown, before looking at Arthur.

She smiled instantly and Arthur couldn’t stop his own smile. She stared at him in surprise and watched as he drew closer, as if she wasn’t sure he was real or not.

“Juliette,” Arthur said as he drew closer.

“Arthur,” Juliette said.

Her gaze jumped to her companions, but Arthur ignored them entirely. That was an issue he could deal with later on. He slowed Whiskey as he got closer and guided him to turn. Whiskey obeyed and matched pace with Fleur easily.

“You alright?” Arthur asked. “Heard you shot a feller.”

“Yes… well… he was not cooperating,” Juliette said.

One of the men laughed. Arthur looked up with a slight frown. It was the companion to the man with the eyepatch that had laughed. Neither of them looked particularly trustworthy, but Arthur suspected this man was more likely to get him shot. He had shaggy dark hair that wasn’t quite long enough to reach his shoulders. He was smirking, Arthur reckoned it was his resting expression. He had on a dark wide brimmed hat. 

“Ay, señorita! That is the spirit! Anyone does not listen, shoot their foot!”

The man with the eye patch surveyed Arthur uneasily. It was then that Arthur noticed the man tied up on the back of his companion’s horse, their bounty. He wasn’t saying much, Arthur wondered if he was even conscious. Didn’t look like he’d been injured much.

“What’s goin’ on?” Arthur asked uneasily. “You a bounty hunter now?”

“Sometimes,” Juliette said with a slight smile.

Arthur smiled slowly and chuckled.

“Miss Bellerose, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you,” Arthur said.

“He a friend of yours?” the man with the eyepatch asked gruffly.

Arthur glanced back to him and watched as he brought his shire horse to a halt, turning to face them. His companion followed his lead, blocking the path forward. Arthur frowned, but didn’t say anything.

“Yes,” Juliette said.

She studied the two, her gaze flicking to their rifles for a moment. She was afraid of something happening. Arthur couldn’t blame her, and he certainly didn’t plan to start anything, but… bounty hunters and outlaws didn’t tend to get along real well.

He’d made a real dumb choice approachin’ them, but… he wasn’t quite thinkin’ straight.

“Thought you said you never met ‘im?” the man with the eyepatch asked, turning his gaze on Juliette.

“You asked if I had seen him,” Juliette corrected. “I had not since we last spoke.”

The man studied her with a frown, clearly not happy about this discrepancy.

“I told you she was perfect,” his companion said with a smirk. “Got the job done and didn’t run off with our bounty!”

“Yeah,” the man with the eyepatch scoffed. “Should bring Morgan in instead.”

“Ain’t got a bounty in Valentine,” Arthur said. “Gotta go a long ways for that.”

“It’d be worth it,” he returned readily, his voice harsh and low.

He glared at Arthur, before glancing to Juliette. She stared at him with a frown, watching him closely. He sighed loudly.

“I ain’t lookin’ to get involved with damn gangs,” the man finally decided. “Just don’t shoot us or steal our bounty, Morgan.”

“Reckon I can manage that,” Arthur said lowly.

Juliette’s gaze flicked between the two uncertainly. The man with the eyepatch stared Arthur down for a moment, before guiding his horse back down the path. His companion followed and the two began to talk. Juliette waited a moment before following them. Without instruction, Whiskey headed to her. 

“Where are you off to?” Juliette asked Arthur.

“I’ll ride with you for a while,” Arthur said, his eyes shifting back to the man with the eyepatch.

Arthur knew bounty hunters weren’t the best bunch. They were usually just above outlaws, didn’t care much about who got hurt as long as they were paid. He didn’t trust them.

“Really?” Juliette asked, her smile returning.

“Reckon so, if that’s alright with you,” Arthur said.

“Of course,” Juliette said. “I like your company.”

One of the bounty hunters, the one with the bounty on his horse, looked back at them. He studied Arthur slowly, a strange look crossing his eyes. It was like he knew somethin’ Arthur didn’t. Arthur didn’t know much, but he hated how smug the man was.

“I did not know you befriended outlaws,” he said to Juliette. “Now I understand why you were friendly to me; I am far from the worst company you keep!”

Arthur glared at him. He couldn’t deny it, but he certainly didn’t like hearin’ it.

“Miguel,” Juliette said as she shot a look at him.

“What?” Miguel asked. “You should have told us! We could have lured him out instead, señorita!”

Arthur frowned at him, his hand instinctively reaching towards his pistol. He glanced over to Juliette and stopped as he realized she was watching him. He took in a deep breath and looked away irritably.

“Did you really have to say anything?” Juliette demanded as she looked back to Miguel.

“Ay, it is my curse! I cannot keep my mouth shut,” Miguel said. “It has saved my life before, but it mostly gets me into trouble!”

“He your friend?” Arthur growled.

“I…” Juliette trailed off uncertainly.

“You wound me, señorita!” Miguel said. “We played poker together, caught a bounty together!”

“That is true… he is growing on me,” she decided.

“You play poker?” Arthur asked in surprise.

“If I think I can win, yes,” Juliette said.

Arthur chuckled.

He glanced back up at the bounty hunters, then to her again. She was frowning slightly.

“How did you know I shot someone?” Juliette asked.

“I uh…” he really hadn’t thought this through. “Well… I know the lady you saved. Spoke to her.”

Juliette glanced over at him and studied him for a moment.

“Is she alright?” Juliette asked.

“Sure, she’s fine,” Arthur said. “You really shouldn’t be… drawing a gun at folks.” 

“He would not have listened if I did not have a gun,” Juliette said pointedly.

“I know, I know,” Arthur said. “I just… it ain’t exactly safe, Jules.”

She looked like she wanted to argue but stopped suddenly. She smiled slowly.

“What?” Arthur asked uncertainly.

“Nothing,” Juliette said, still smiling to herself.

What had he said?

He stared at her uncertainly. She glanced back to him, her eyes shining brightly.

“I will be more careful next time,” Juliette promised.

Arthur nodded.

“I did not want any trouble, but…. American men are hard to negotiate with when they’re drunk.”

“That’s for sure,” Arthur agree. “I’ll try ‘n be around next time.”

“It worked out alright,” Juliette said.

“I reckon it did,” Arthur said. “Next time… just find me, would ya? I could’ve taken care of it.”

“Quite the gentleman, Arthur,” Juliette mused.

“I ain’t,” Arthur said. “Just… don’t want you to get shot is all.”

“I do not plan on being shot,” Juliette said.

“Playin’ bounty hunter now,” Arthur scoffed. “Seems like a real good way to get shot.”

“Maybe,” Juliette agreed. 

“Why’d you do it exactly?” Arthur asked. “Needed somethin’ challenging?”

“I suppose,” Juliette said with a slight shrug. “I do not…. Have a good reason. I know it is not something someone like me can do, but…”

“Anyone can do it,” Arthur said. “Just depends if you got the stomach for it. It ain’t… exactly honest work.”

Juliette’s expression shifted slightly, and Arthur hesitated.

“Do you know much about honest work?” Juliette finally asked after a moment.

“No… I reckon I don’t really.

As they continued down the road, a single question weighed him down. He tried to ignore it, but the further they went the harder it was. The man on the back of Miguel’s horse woke up and began to protest but was quickly silenced.

“Thank you for…” Juliette trailed off for a moment. “Coming all this way.”

“Ain’t nothin’,” Arthur said. “Shoulda gotten there sooner, coulda helped out.”

Juliette smiled.

“You cannot always be there to save me,” Juliette said. “You have done plenty.”

Arthur stared at her uncertainly.

She wasn’t wrong, but some part of him wanted to deny it. He couldn’t always be there, but for some reason he wanted to be. He never seemed to get the timing right. With Mary, Eliza… Isaac. He was always too late, steps behind. Seemed his luck hadn’t changed much.

“What are you thinking?” Juliette asked, dragging him out of his own thoughts.

He glanced over to her, before looking forward again. They were approaching the outskirts of Valentine then. There were few others on the road, most heading to the post office with only a wagon going to town ahead of them.

“Nothin’,” Arthur said after a moment.

He looked to the two bounty hunters. They were talking in low whispers. The man with the eyepatch looked back for a brief moment and frowned at Arthur, before talking with Miguel again. He wondered if they were debating how long they’d let him hang around before they decided the five grand on his head was worth the trouble.

“Who exactly are they?” Arthur asked.

“You know about as much as I do,” Juliette said. “I only met Daniel yesterday.”

Arthur considered this with a frown. He didn’t particularly like that she had gone with them after a bounty. He didn’t trust them much, even less with each look they cast at him.

“Trust ‘em?”

“Enough, yes,” Juliette said. “They did not try and tie you up.”

Arthur smiled slightly and glanced back over at her.

“Nervous they would?” Arthur asked.

“I was,” Juliette admitted. “I am sure it is not often they have a bounty come to them.”

“Reckon not,” Arthur agreed. “Didn’t think that through all the way.”

Juliette’s smile grew.

The bounty hunters slowed their horses as they drew closer to the main street. Arthur and Juliette followed their lead, the distance between them and the bounty hunters lessening. Now that they were in town, they couldn’t take up as much room without getting in the way.

“And here I thought I was the reckless one,” Juliette mused.

He chuckled.

“I ain’t baitin’ out wolves,” Arthur said.

“No, but you are running towards bounty hunters,” Juliette said.

“Wasn’t running to them,” Arthur said. “Tryin’ to find you.”

She didn’t say anything right away. She looked up at him, her gaze catching his. Time seemed to slow for a moment as her smile softened, her green eyes warm.

“I am glad you did,” Juliette said gently.

He smiled.

“Señorita-“

Arthur looked up in surprise, for a moment he’d forgotten entirely where they were. He looked back to Juliette to see amusement flashing in her eyes. He chuckled softly and shook his head.

“Wait for us a moment,” the man with the eyepatch said.

Daniel, that was his name wasn’t it? He could’ve sworn she’d said the name Daniel, but know it was hard to remember. All of his thoughts came slowly, having to fight through the clouds surrounding his mind.

“Alright,” Juliette agreed.

“How much you gettin’ paid for this?” Arthur asked as he looked back to the bounty hunters.

He watched as Miguel pulled the man off of his paint horse. The man swore lowly, threatening them as Miguel carried him into the sheriff’s building.

“Twenty,” Juliette said.

That wasn’t a bad take. Not worth being shot for, but a decent amount.

“It was rather easy,” Juliette said. “He was not difficult to convince.”

“It ain’t always easy,” Arthur said.

“Believe me, I know,” Juliette said.

Her gaze flickered across the town as she brought Fleur to a stop near the sheriff’s building. Slowly she surveyed the people around them, before letting her gaze settle on him again.

“I should warn you,” Juliette said. “They mentioned a bounty hunter was after someone in your gang.”

That shouldn’t be surprising. With their faces plastered up in Blackwater, he’d expect any decent bounty hunter to recognize them. Most so far had decided they weren’t worth the trouble, same as Miguel and Daniel. Every now and then someone would try it and learned quick that a gang doesn’t let go of their own easy… at least theirs didn’t. O’Driscolls cut ties with nearly anyone that got caught.

“Thanks,” Arthur said, his voice lower than he’d like. “You know then?”

“About you being an outlaw?”

Arthur nodded.

“Yes, I saw your bounty poster in Strawberry,” Juliette said.

Her gaze shifted away from him. He watched as she stared at something and looked over to see a few bounty posters nailed to the wall of the building. His was not one of them, thankfully. He hoped it never would be. They’d been reckless lately, going after that train was a mistake. The law had been onto them quicker than they’d anticipated. The Pinkertons following them this far East wasn’t particularly reassuring either. They just needed to lie low and keep quiet… not exactly something that came naturally to them. Dutch always promised they would, but he never could keep quiet that long.

Trouble seemed to follow them no matter where they went.

“Still want me around?” Arthur asked.

“Yes.”

Her answer had been quick, instantaneous. He looked up at her in surprise with a slight frown.

“You sure?” Arthur asked. “I ain’t… exactly the sort of feller you should be talkin’ with.”

She thought about this for a moment, before looking back at him. She smiled slightly.

“You have not shot me,” Juliette decided.

“Those are some mighty low standards,” Arthur scoffed.

She shrugged, her gaze turning distant for a moment.

“Perhaps,” Juliette agreed. “I am not usually this lenient, but…”

“But?” Arthur asked.

She looked up at him, her smile growing. 

“I am rather fond of you,” Juliette said.

“You are?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

She chuckled softly.

“I am…” she trailed off and sighed. She looked back to Arthur. “As long as you are not shooting up towns for fun.”

“I ain’t,” Arthur said.

Fun wasn’t any part of it. He never started the shootouts, but he’d always ended them. Last one in Strawberry had been particularly bloody and stupid. Didn’t have to happen, but course Micah still did it. Arthur didn’t like Micah one bit, but Dutch did. Arthur couldn’t quite figure out why neither. Micah didn’t bring back much money, didn’t help out around camp, and got them in more trouble than he was worth. If Arthur had his way, he would’ve been kicked out of the gang long ago. But Dutch wanted him, so he stayed. Arthur wasn’t in the habit of questioning Dutch, but this was something he couldn’t figure out.

“Good,” Juliette said. “Promise me one thing, would you?”

Arthur looked back at her, surprised to see her eyes vulnerable and uncertain.

“Do not make me regret this,” Juliette said.

“I won’t.”

He knew it wasn’t a promise he could keep, but the words slipped away from him before he could stop them. He made a silent promise to himself then, this wasn’t something he would mess up. He’d do his best to keep it from going wrong as everything else had.

The door swung open and Arthur looked over to see the two walking out. Daniel’s gaze landed on Arthur instantly and he studied him with a frown. Arthur met his gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly. He watched him closely as the two approached them.

“Here’s your cut,” Daniel said as he finally looked away from Arthur.

He handed up some money to Juliette. She counted it quickly before smiling satisfied.

“Don’t trust us?” Miguel asked with a smirk.

“With money?” Juliette asked. “Not yet.”

Miguel laughed.

“Yet? You ready for our next bounty then, señorita?”

Arthur tensed slightly and looked over at Juliette uneasily. Predators was one thing, but criminals? There were some nasty folk around here. Murderers around every corner. Hell, he’d just caught a man that had killed three different people and mutilated their corpses.

“No,” Juliette said.

He relaxed some. He realized Daniel’s gaze was on him and he frowned.

“If you find another easy bounty, I will consider it,” Juliette said.

“Until then,” Miguel chuckled. 

Daniel led the way back to their horses and mounted his own. Miguel followed his lead.

“See you around, señorita,” Miguel said.

Juliette nodded.

Miguel’s gaze shifted to Arthur for a moment. Arthur held his ground, his eyes narrowing. Miguel smirked and guided his horse away from them. Arthur watched as the two rode off. Why hadn’t they tried anything? He didn’t want them to, but he was surprised that he’d left that encounter with the same number of bullets.

“Where will you go now?” Juliette asked.

Arthur looked back to her.

“Don’t got a plan,” Arthur admitted. “How ‘bout you?”

“I have an idea,” Juliette said.

“Will it get us shot?”

“It should not,” Juliette chuckled.

“Shouldn’t?” Arthur repeated.

“Afraid, Arthur?”

He chuckled. Juliette smiled and nodded her head towards the road leaving Valentine. She guided Fleur towards it and Arthur followed her lead.

“Will you go with me?” Juliette asked.

“Lead the way.” 

They continued down the same road they’d come from. As they reached the post office, Juliette looked over at Arthur. 

“Do you want to race?” Juliette asked in a lighthearted tone.

Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d raced someone. He used to race John before… well before John’d abandoned them. Arthur knew he’d have to find a way to forgive him eventually, but he was still bitter about it.

“Sure, why not,” Arthur said.

“To twin stack pass?” Juliette suggested.

“Sounds good, long as you ain’t a sore loser,” Arthur said.

“I am unused to losing,” Juliette said. “But I handle it with grace.”

Arthur laughed and Juliette smiled.

“I’m sure you ain’t,” Arthur agreed. “You ain’t ever raced a horse before, have you?”

“No,” Juliette admitted. “There is a lot I have not done.”

Arthur studied her curiously.

“Ready?” Juliette asked.

“When you are.”

“Let us go then,” Juliette declared.

She brought Fleur to a gallop and Arthur spurred Whiskey on. He knew a race between them was unfair, he’d practically lived on a horse and she’d only recently started. He’d planned on going easy, but was surprised to find she was pretty good at it.

Without hesitation, she took the lead. Whiskey closed the distance between them easily.

“Thought having an expensive horse would give you more of an edge,” Arthur teased as they raced side by side.

“I am not as used to running as you,” Juliette said. “I hope you run faster when the law is chasing you.”

As they grew closer to a rider, Arthur passed Juliette to give them more room. He was careful to keep an eye on her, never letting Whiskey get too far ahead. Every now and then he would let Whiskey slow just enough for them to be side by side again.

“Miss me?” Juliette mused as Whiskey fell into place beside her.

“Awfully lonely at the front,” Arthur said.

“Is it?” Juliette asked. “I suppose I should try it.”

Fleur sped up suddenly and passed in front of Whiskey right as a caravan passed. Arthur chuckled and spurred Whiskey on. He was unable to pass on the road, but easily navigated Whiskey across the land beside it.

The road dipped while the path he’d taken went up a slight hill. Juliette looked up at him and laughed.

“I think that is cheating,” Juliette said, having to speak louder than she normally would.

“Didn’t think there was such a thing as cheatin’ in a race,” Arthur said.

“Said the outlaw,” Juliette laughed.

Arthur chuckled and as his path leveled, he passed Fleur. The pass was not far ahead, to their right he could see the oil fields. Whiskey kept his pace until they reached the end and Arthur slowed him to a walk. Juliette and Fleur were moments behind him.

“You ride pretty good,” Arthur said.

“I am learning,” Juliette said. “Congratulations on your win.”

“Thank you kindly, miss Bellerose,” Arthur said.

Juliette patted Fleur’s neck gently and murmured something in French to her. Whiskey shook his head and Arthur chuckled. He patted his neck and Whiskey calmed some.

“How long have you had him?” Juliette asked.

“Whiskey? Not long, little over a month,” Arthur said.

“Really?” Juliette asked in surprise. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said. “My old horse got killed.”

Boadicea had been a good horse. He’d loved her more than he could rightfully explain. Arthur had always been awfully attached to animals. Their deaths always struck him hard, harder than he’d like to admit. Still hurt thinking about her, if he was honest.

“I am sorry,” Juliette said.

“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur said. “Whiskey’s a real good horse, even if he is ornery.”

“He is lovely,” Juliette said.

She led the way down the path heading south and Arthur followed. He watched as she studied something in the distance with a small thoughtful frown. He followed her gaze to the canyons. He didn’t see anything particularly interesting.

“Have you been this way?” Juliette asked.

“Few times,” Arthur said.

She led Fleur off of the road and towards the canyon.

“Lookin’ for somethin’ new to photograph?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” Juliette said.

“Ain’t no predators out here,” Arthur said. “Besides snakes, but they ain’t easy to photograph.”

“I have had enough danger for now,” Juliette chuckled. “I am just looking for something interesting.”

“Interestin’?” Arthur repeated. “Interestin’ like what?”

“Like that,” Juliette said with a slow smile.

Arthur followed her gaze to see an old abandoned oil derrick. He followed Juliette as she led the way to it, her gaze fixed on it. He smiled slightly. He’d always thought he was strange for being curious of these sorts of things. He had plenty of places similar to this scribbled down in his journal from his travels, places he’d found unique.

They stopped a little ways from it and dismounted their horses. She began to circle the area slowly, examining it.

“Ever seen one before?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Juliette said. “France is not known for oil and I have never been in the oil business.”

“What business were you in then?” Arthur asked.

Juliette did not answer him right away but instead continued to study the derrick.

“Little bit of everything,” Juliette finally said. “Textiles is our main focus, but we have a hand in several industries.”

“We?” Arthur asked.

“My family,” Juliette clarified. “It was our business.”

She walked back to Fleur and took out her camera. Arthur stood beside the horses, watching. He hooked his hands into his belt.

“That what you’re runnin’ from?” Arthur asked.

Again, she did not answer right away. He was beginning to wonder if she would answer when she finally spoke. She fiddled with her camera for a moment and shifted it over a few times, studying the derrick a few times to line it up.

“Partially, yes,” Juliette said.

Arthur walked over towards her and looked over the scene she was photographing. She had chosen a slight angle, with the canyon looming over the derrick in the background. From their position you could see the strewn about camp, the wagon, crates, and general disarray.

“There were a lot of factors in my sudden departure,” Juliette said. “I cannot blame it all on my family, as much as I would like to… I was foolish and far too trusting.”

He remembered her mentioning that she couldn’t trust people or something along those lines. He found himself more confused with this new revelation. He didn’t know much about family, but he’d suspect anyone working close with family would have to trust them. He reckoned that was something he simply wouldn’t understand, the closest he got was train robberies with Dutch and the gang. Dutch always said they were a family.

Arthur pulled out his journal as Juliette readied her camera. He sketched the derrick and the figure of Juliette with her camera. As he finished it, Juliette started towards the derrick, abandoning her camera. Arthur slid his journal into his satchel and followed her. She approached it curiously, surveying it closely, her gaze flickering over each small detail.

“What do you think happened?” Juliette asked.

“Dunno,” Arthur said.

Looked like they’d left the place in a hurry, there were a lot of supplies left behind. He’d helped pack up camps in a hurry, this seemed an awful lot like that. Heavier stuff abandoned, provisions strewn about, materials looking like they’d been thrown around.

“Might’ve been raided,” Arthur guessed. “Seems like they left in a hurry.”

“Indeed,” Juliette agreed.

She walked onto the platform of the derrick and peered down. Her lips quirked down in a frown as her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“What is that?” She asked in astonishment.

Arthur went to where she was and looked down to see in the pit of the derrick a pale ivory poked out of the ground. Juliette carefully climbed down the ladder into the pit and Arthur looked around to make sure no one was about to return to the camp. He followed her down, the ladder creaking.

When he stepped down he spotted Juliette kneeling beside the object, brushing the dirt off with her bare hands. The dirt was wet, staining her hands and the bottom of her blue skirt. She did not seem to care, she was too intrigued with her discovery. He crouched down and helped her wipe away the dirt. After a few minutes, they’d uncovered what looked like a skeleton of some kind.

“The hell is this?” Arthur asked.

“I do not know,” Juliette said.

She studied the bone with a thoughtful frown, contemplating it.

“Bigger than a bison, I reckon,” Arthur said.

“It is,” Juliette agreed. “It could be a dinosaur bone, I suppose… awfully strange to be here, I thought they were deeper?”

“I got no clue, Jules,” Arthur said.

He wiped his forehead without thought. She glanced up at him with a smile, and as she looked at him, she laughed.

“What?” Arthur asked in confusion.

“You look like a true archaeologist with mud on your forehead,” Juliette managed.

“A what now?”

He wiped his hands off on his pants, before swiping at his forehead again with the back of his hand. He was afraid he’d smudged it more than removed it, and knew he had when Juliette beamed at him.

“An archaeologist,” Juliette repeated. “They… well… from what I understand they search for bones like these,” Juliette explained. “Looking for… remnants of the past. Sort of like a historian, but they deal with artifacts.”

“Huh.”

“I wonder if this is why they left,” Juliette said as she looked down at the bone again. “If they went to find… someone to properly preserve it.”

“Doubt it,” Arthur said. “Don’t think they’d understand what it was, probably just found it annoyin’ it was in the way.”

“I suppose you are correct,” Juliette agreed. “Well… I am glad they were chased off. This is an incredible find; I have only seen something like this in a museum… how hard do you think it would be to photograph?”

“Don’t know,” Arthur said. “Can’t be harder than wolves.”

Juliette smiled.

“Perhaps,” Juliette agreed.

Arthur climbed back up the ladder and waited at the top. Juliette climbed up a moment later and as she reached the top, Arthur offered his hand. She accepted it and he helped her out.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Juliette said.

“Anytime.”

Juliette seemed to realize then both their hands were covered in mud. She chuckled.

“It has been quite the day,” Juliette said as she headed back towards the horses. “Caught my first bounty and now we have discovered dinosaur bones.”

“Been awfully busy, haven’t you?” Arthur mused.

“I suppose I have,” Juliette agreed.

“This what you got up to in France?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Juliette said. “Believe me, nothing was ever this interesting. Edmond would be so worried if-“ she stopped suddenly and hesitated in her steps for a moment, before continuing to Fleur. “If he knew. I do not know what to tell him about America, I can hardly tell him that I have befriended an outlaw and some bounty hunters.”

“Or you nearly got eaten by wolves,” Arthur added.

“That too,” Juliette said with a smile. “You will not let me forget that, will you?”

“I ain’t about to, no,” Arthur chuckled. “Don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

Juliette’s smile grew.

“I am glad I am memorable then,” Juliette said.

“That you are, Juliette,” Arthur said. “I ain’t about to forget you.”

Fleur looked up at them as they drew closer. Juliette headed to her saddle bag and rifled through it. After a moment she produced a cloth and cleaned off her hands. She found another and offered it to Arthur, but he had already wiped his hands off on his pants. Juliette chuckled and shook her head. Arthur shrugged and patted Fleur.

He glanced over the area around them, making sure they were safe.

“Arthur,” Juliette said.

He looked over to see her standing beside him.

“You have mud on your forehead still,” Juliette said.

Arthur wiped at his forehead again and Juliette chuckled.

“Hold on,” Juliette said. “You are smearing it.”

She took the cloth and leaned up. Arthur had to lean down some to allow her to wipe his forehead with the cloth. Juliette wasn’t particularly short; Arthur was just tall. He had a good couple of inches on her, she just reached his shoulder when standing beside him.

His eyes caught hers for a moment and she smiled slowly. His hat cast a shadow across her from their close proximity, making her eyes seem a grayer green than the soft light green he knew them to be. He could see the freckles that flecked her skin then, he hadn’t noticed them before. They blended in against her pale skin, there was barely more than a shade difference. He wondered if she’d always had them, or if she had been in the sun more since leaving France.

All too quickly, Juliette stepped back, satisfied. Arthur released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as she turned back to her saddlebag. She put away the cloth and brushed her skirt free of dust. She seemed to just then realize the dirt on the bottom of her skirt. She frowned some, studying the damage. 

“I should have been more careful,” Juliette said. “That will be an annoying stain to clean.”

“Mud ain’t that bad,” Arthur said. “Just don’t let it dry overnight.”

Juliette looked up at him with a smile.

“You care about stains?” Juliette asked.

She looked him up and down, her gaze undoubtedly seeing the discolored patches on his shirt and pants. This was one of his better shirts too. He liked the blue of it, but the lightness of it made it easy to stain. There was only one bad stain on it, on his right shoulder. It was stained by blood but had dried a faint tan.

“Not particularly,” Arthur admitted. “Been reprimanded to take better care of clothes ‘s all.”

Miss Grimshaw always snapped at him whenever he returned to camp with freshly stained clothes. She always demanded he clean up, take care of his clothes, but Arthur never really saw the point till recently. Now he was wishing he’d taken her advice more to heart.

Juliette smiled and walked back to her camera. She picked it up carefully and carried it towards the derrick.

“I would guess you have bigger issues,” Juliette commented.

“Not all the time,” Arthur said. “Get busy ‘n forget. By the time I remember, it’s usually too late.”

Juliette set up her camera on the derrick’s platform and frowned down at the dinosaur bones. She seemed to consider something, before pulling the tripod back and closing the legs together. Juliette laid it down, the camera lens pointing down at the bones, dangling out over nothing. Juliette kneeled down, her knee pinning the tripod down as she leaned out to mess with the camera.

“Christ,” Arthur chuckled. “You’re gonna break your camera one day.”

“Probably,” Juliette agreed. “Hopefully the picture will be worth it.”

He watched as she took a test photograph and she frowned slightly.

“It is very possible this picture will either be too blown out or underlit,” Juliette said. “But… I have absolutely no idea which it will be.”

“Bones ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Arthur said.

“I suppose not,” Juliette said.

Arthur leaned against one of the posts of the derrick, crossing his arms. He smiled as he watched her work. He couldn’t imagine her staying out of trouble anywhere. She seemed plenty smart, just reckless. Couldn’t blame her, he was probably worse than her. Although he’d never strung up meat to draw wolves out. The worst he’d done was hunt down wolves, but even then, he wasn’t luring them to him.

It was then Arthur remembered a name she’d mentioned. She had hesitated after saying it, like the name meant something to her. He felt a strange need to understand exactly what it meant, who he was to her. It was a burning question that stuck to him like a burr. He tried to ignore it and sketch out the dinosaur bones in his journal, but with each line he drew the question burned stronger until finally he gave into it.

“You said somethin’ about an Edmond earlier,” Arthur said. He tried his hardest to sound casual, as if it was a fleeting thought, one that’s answer would have no impact on him.

“He….” Juliette seemed to struggle finding the right words to describe him. “We were engaged before I left.”

Arthur looked up at her, his attention solely on her then.

“Were?” Arthur dared to ask.

He glanced to her hand and saw no ring. He would’ve noticed it sooner if there was.

“Yes, well…” Juliette trailed off for a moment. “I broke it off shortly before I left.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

He did feel a flicker of guilt for relaxing at her answer. A broken engagement wasn’t something easy to go through, he knew that.

“Do not be,” Juliette said. “It was a mistake.”

“How’s that?” Arthur asked with a slight frown. “Didn’t love him?”

“I did, just… not like that,” Juliette said carefully. “We have been friends for a long time, he is like family to me.”

“Why’d you accept then?”

“I did not have much choice,” Juliette said bitterly. “He proposed during a gala… he did not understand how it trapped me; I am sure he would not have done it if he knew… I mean how can you say no in front of everyone?”

“Easy, just say it,” Arthur said.

“It is not that simple,” Juliette said. “If I had said no in front of everyone, rumors would spread, contracts would fall through, investors would suddenly back out… it is not a good look to seem fractured.”

“Better to hide it then?”

“I… do not know,” Juliette admitted.

She pulled her camera back to safety and sighed. She stood up and moved to sit on the edge of the derrick. Arthur walked over to join her, taking a seat beside her.

“I have a habit of pushing off the inevitable,” Juliette said. “I had hoped… they were right. That I would want everything they had laid out for me or at the very least it would get easier.”

“Never does, does it?” Arthur asked.

“No, it does not,” Juliette sighed.

“I was engaged a while back,” Arthur said.

Juliette looked up at him curiously, seeming taken a back.

“You seem surprised,” Arthur chuckled.

“I am a little,” Juliette admitted sheepishly.

“Guess I don’t really seem the marryin’ type,” Arthur said.

His tone was heavier than he’d like, the implications of his words weighing him down. He didn’t know how he’d expected things to work out back then. He’d thought everything would just fall into place for them, everything would just line up, but it never did. As each day went by, things got harder, not easier.

“It is not that,” Juliette said quickly. “I just… I was thinking more of you being in a gang.”

Arthur chuckled and Juliette flushed slightly, seeming embarrassed.

“You ain’t wrong,” Arthur said. “That’s why we never went through with it.”

Juliette was quiet for a moment, considering what he had said. It was clear she had something to ask, but was trying to find the words.

“What?” Arthur finally asked after a moment.

“Do you… still love her?” Juliette asked cautiously.

He glanced over at her, trying to read her expression. Her eyes were staring off into the distance, not quite focused on anything. There was a strange sadness in her eyes, but he reckoned it’d been there since he’d brought up this topic. He knew this wasn’t exactly a light conversation. He looked forward, staring at Whiskey and Fleur. They had not moved much but had in fact wandered closer.

The sun was beginning to fall, bathing the land around them in a softer light. The clouds strewn across the sky were thin and seemed almost a lilac then, the sky around it painted golden orange fading into a purple.

“It was a long time ago,” Arthur finally said.

“You did not answer my question,” Juliette said with a smile as she glanced back at him.

Arthur smiled slightly and caught her gaze for a moment, before letting his own settle on the horizon again.

“We’re different people now,” Arthur said. “She got married ‘n moved on and I… well I stayed pretty much the same.”

He could still remember when he’d heard the news she was married. It stung like nothing else, felt like he’d gotten stabbed in the heart. Just the thought of it would send a flicker of pain and regret through him, but then… he didn’t feel it anymore. He felt a strange melancholic acceptance about it. Him and Mary never would’ve worked.

“I am glad you did.”

Arthur stared at Juliette in surprise. His smile softened. He looked forward, enjoying the moment. After a moment, a question creeped up into his thoughts until it was overbearing.

“Do you miss him?” Arthur asked quietly.

He was getting used to Juliette hesitating before answering. Her responses had been fairly quick earlier that day, she had no hesitation, but now she had to think through each question he asked.

“Sometimes,” Juliette admitted. She sighed heavily, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Not as much, anymore… but I used to miss him a lot, even when we were engaged… I know that must not make sense, but… somehow we grew further apart.”

Arthur looked over at her to see her smile had fallen some and seemed hollow.

“I had never considered marriage,” Juliette said. “I was… wrapped up in everything else. It was expected of us.”

“Don’t sound very romantic,” Arthur scoffed.

“A lot of romance is unromantic,” Juliette sighed. “I mean… who does not want to settle down and have a family?”

“Do you?” Arthur asked.

“I… maybe,” Juliette said hesitantly. “Now… that things are different, it is more appealing.”

They remained sitting for a while, until the sun began to dip under the horizon. It was only then that they felt the push to finally move. He would’ve stayed longer, but he was plenty aware she still needed to set up a camp and it would get harder as the light continued to fade.

He was reluctant to leave, but after they said their farewells, he guided Whiskey back towards camp. He did not feel compelled to spur Whiskey on, but instead enjoyed their slow trot back. The cold stung his skin, he’d left his jacket back in camp. He needed to remember to pack it into his saddlebag.

There were few other travelers on the road, each hurried past him.

As he reached the outskirts of camp, he felt a strange draw to turn around and leave. He considered it for a moment, but a gravelly voice called out to him.

“Who’s there?” Bill asked.

“Arthur, you dumb ass,” Arthur said.

He guided Whiskey down the path to camp. Whiskey needed little guidance after he was on the path, he was used to it by now. He knew at the end of this he would be able to rest and was eager to reach the camp.

“Why you just standin’ there?” Bill growled. “Looked like someone ‘bout to shoot.”

“Surprised you even noticed,” Arthur scoffed. “Glad to see you workin’ for once.”

“Shut up, Morgan,” Bill snapped.

Arthur ignored him as Bill growled out another jab. Whiskey continued onto camp and came to a halt beside the other horses. Arthur dismounted him and tended to him, brushing him, and feeding him. Once he was content, Arthur headed back into the camp.

He glanced around to see Hosea settled at one of the tables with Karen and John. John looked up at him and Arthur frowned, instantly starting away from him. They’d certainly gotten better over the past month, but every now and then Arthur would feel an ember of anger reignite in him.

He ended up walking over to the campfire to claim a cup of coffee. Mary Beth sat alone at it, reading a book. She looked up as he poured his cup.

“There you are,” Mary Beth said. “Been lookin’ for you.”

“You have?” Arthur asked uncertainly. “Hear anything worth investigating in town?”

“I am following a lead, but that’s not why I was looking for you,” Mary Beth said.

She studied him with a smile, like she knew something he didn’t. Arthur frowned at her uneasily. Why was she lookin’ at him like that?

“Alright then,” Arthur said.

“Well, who is she?” Mary Beth asked.

“Who?”

He looked up, then around the camp as if he’d see the person she was talking about. He saw no one that she could mean and ended up looking back at Mary Beth. He took a drink from his coffee, feeling it burn at his throat.

“That French woman you rushed off to save,” Mary Beth explained.

Arthur coughed into his coffee, caught off guard. He took a moment to recover.

“Whatchu talkin’ about?” Arthur asked.

“I saw you ridin’ with her,” Mary Beth said. “Come on, Arthur! You can tell me. Ain’t nothin’ interesting ever happen around here.”

“W-well…”

Arthur didn’t like talkin’ about people he met. Never had. He’d tried to keep Mary a secret, same as Eliza, but he’d been spotted in town with her. Then of course word spread across the camp like wildfire until it was the only thing he heard. He certainly didn’t want that to happen again.

“Sit down, Arthur,” Mary Beth.

Arthur glanced around the camp, begging for Miss Grimshaw to come and demand they work. She didn’t. Arthur sighed and obediently sat down.

“Well?” Mary Beth asked expectantly.

“She’s… a photographer,” Arthur said reluctantly.

“Photographer?” Mary Beth repeated. “Why’d she meet with those bounty hunters then?”

“Guess she was a bounty hunter today.”

“She in any trouble?” Mary Beth asked.

“Don’t think so,” Arthur said. “Not for lack of tryin’.”

Arthur stared at the fire, wanting this conversation to end.

“Do you love her?” Mary Beth asked excitedly.

“Love her?!” Arthur repeated in astonishment. He realized he was talking louder than he’d meant to and instantly glanced around to make sure no one had heard him. No one seemed to. “Why would you ask somethin’ like that?”

Mary Beth smiled at him and Arthur grimaced.

“Don’t go gettin’ no ideas-“

“Arthur,” Mary Beth said, her voice soft.

“Don’t Arthur me,” Arthur snapped. 

He stood up, but Mary Beth was still smiling at him.

“It ain’t- it ain’t like that, Mary Beth,” Arthur fumbled, unable to find the right words.

“Sure it ain’t,” Mary Beth said. “Sure seemed like it was when you were smilin’ at her. Didn’t seem like you had eyes for anyone else.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Arthur grumbled. “You been readin’ too much.”

“Now you sound like Miss Grimshaw,” Mary Beth said bitterly.

He looked around the camp desperately, begging for anyone to come over. John heard his silent pleas and wandered over. He approached cautiously, like he was expecting Arthur to snap at him. Right then, Arthur was thankful for John, more than he had been in a while. John took a seat across from Mary Beth.

“What are y’all talkin’ about?” John asked.

“Arthur wants me to read less,” Mary Beth commented.

“That ain’t it,” Arthur muttered. “You’re just gettin’ the wrong idea is all.”

“Am I?” Mary Beth asked with a smile.

Arthur looked away from her, unable to answer that. He didn’t want to think about it.

“What’re you doin’ to him?” John asked in disbelief.

“Makin’ him think is all,” Mary Beth chuckled. “Guess that’s a lot to ask from people like you two.”

“Hey now,” John said. “I’m just a bystander to whatever this is.”

“She ain’t wrong,” Sean said.

Arthur groaned.

“You two ain’t the brightest, but don’t you worry, I’m around to look out for you sorry sods!”

“Christ,” Arthur breathed. “With your aim, you’re more likely to shoot us than whatever you’re aimin’ for.”

“Hey! I held my own on that train,” Sean defended. “You’re just worried I’m going to take your place. You’re both getting old, sooner or later you’ll have to face I’m the future of this gang!”

“We’re doomed,” John said.

Arthur tuned them out, letting his thoughts wander. It didn’t take long for his mind to return to her, running through everything that had happened. He smiled a little to himself. Wasn’t a bad day, all in all. Better than the rest he’d had lately.

He found himself wishing he’d gone looking for her sooner.

He couldn’t quite shake her smile, he kept seeing it. Somehow it made him feel younger, like he was a dumb twenty-year-old again. He was making the same mistakes again. Letting himself get close to someone outside of the gang…

He sighed.

Arthur always hung around strangers too long. He got to involved, helped too much. He’d been doing it more lately, even before Blackwater. The gang had gotten pretty far from the Robin Hood they wanted to be and Arthur tried to make up for it in his own way, to alleviate some of his guilt.

It was more than that now. He’d gone looking for Juliette just to make sure she wasn’t in trouble. He couldn’t remember the last mine he’d looked for someone outside of the gang without reason. It’d been a while

He knew he couldn’t get swept away, but he already wanted to leave again to find her. He was mighty grateful he’d at least run into Mary Beth and she’d been able to point him in the right direction.

_Bounty hunter, _Arthur thought with a slight smile. ‘Course he shouldn’t be surprised by anything Jules did anymore-

He sat rigid, his eyes narrowing. The thought had come naturally. When did he start calling her Jules? Did he say it aloud? He realized with a start he _had. _That was why she smiled in Valentine; he’d said it.

“Dammit,” Arthur said lowly.

He was an idiot.

“What’s wrong with ya? Don’t like my story?” Sean asked. “Well I’d-“

“Sean, I didn’t listen to a word of your story because it’s just that, a story. You ain’t ever shot straight your entire life, pretty sure the only reason Dutch keeps you around is you remind him of John when he was even more of a bastard.”

John grunted in disapproval, but didn’t argue.

“Christ almighty, Arthur! I knew you loved me, but I didn’t know you loved me that much!” Sean laughed. “I did it, lads, I brought back our mighty king from his trance!”

“Shut up, boy,” Arthur scoffed. “Let me sit in peace.”

“Can’t let you get old, can I?” Sean asked. “Gotta keep your mind sharp, Arthur!”

Arthur sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

“Forget you,” Arthur decided.

He stood up and started back towards his tent, ready to call it a night. He spotted Grimshaw walking towards him.

“Mr. Morgan, did you go see Mary?” Miss Grimshaw asked.

“Mary?” Arthur repeated. He’d meant to visit her, but well… he got distracted. Clean forgot about her once they’d gotten back to Valentine. “No, reckon I forgot.”

“Forgot?” Miss Grimshaw asked. “About time you forgot about her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yknow I doomed myself a few chapters back by saying I didn’t want to post 25 pages+ yet bc heck here we are sooner than I planned. But honestly whatever. It's fine.
> 
> Also small note! I don’t know how important it is but like Mary Beth 100% is coming from a rose colored glasses perspective like she reads romance novels a lot and is just excited/jumping to conclusions lol 
> 
> also feel free to hit me up on tumblr! I'd love to talk rdr stuff! My ask box is open for writing prompts/requests if anyone is interested <strike> if anyone wanted to talk about this fic i'm down</strike>  
[ My tumblr ](https://lordclover.tumblr.com/)


	9. A Test of Patience

Despite Juliette’s warning, somehow Bill still ended up being captured by bounty hunters. Arthur had made sure to spread the word, but it didn’t change anything. Bill wasn’t any good at lyin’ low, he liked to cause trouble everywhere he went. He was nothing compared to Micah, but he still caused too much for Arthur’s liking.

There were a lot of bounty hunters at the camp. A lot more than he’d expected. Weren’t very reassuring to think about. He knew they weren’t in a good place already; the bounty hunters Juliette were with recognized him instantly, but he’d hoped all their lyin’ low had taken some of the target off of their back. He’d thought it had for a while, but now he wasn’t sure. Especially after his run in with Milton and Ross.

After saving Bill with Javier, Arthur found himself wandering around the Heartlands. He wouldn’t lie, he was looking around for Juliette. He knew it wasn’t a great idea to let himself get close to her, especially with her bounty hunter friends, but he couldn’t quite find the strength to stop himself.

Not too long into his search, he heard shots in the distance. He glanced around, before finally guiding Whiskey towards the direction he’d heard the shots. He just wanted to see what was going on, he didn’t need to get involved. Not the smartest plan by any means, but his curiosity got the better of him.

He followed the erratic sound of the shots towards the railroad. There wasn’t a train on the tracks, couldn’t be a robbery. Whiskey panicked some as they walked closer to the shots, but Arthur was easily able to calm him. He spotted a familiar horse at the bottom of the hill. He brought Whiskey close to Fleur before dismounting.

“Hey there girl,” Arthur greeted as Fleur looked up at him. “Juliette around?”

He walked over to Fleur and patted her neck gently. Fleur didn’t even blink as the shots sounded again. Whiskey seemed less nervous with another horse, but his ears still flicked back.

“Easy boy,” Arthur said.

Whiskey calmed some and Arthur looked towards where he’d heard the shots. It was coming from the underside of the railroad, where the ground dipped to reveal the trestle beams supporting the railroad. There were two figures near it, both familiar. Juliette was sporting a coat he hadn’t seen her wear before, it was a dark leather hunting jacket. Not something he could see her ever wearing in France, it caught him off guard for a moment. He reckoned it matched the rest of her outfit, he suspected her clothes now were a far cry from what she was used to. Her necklace made that much clear, he reckoned it was the only thing that followed her from France.

Miguel looked up as Arthur approached, his gaze snapping to Arthur instantly. For a moment his eyes were harsh and calculated, his rifle trained on him. He let his aim drop as he realized it was Arthur. Miguel smirked.

“Señorita, your outlaw is here,” Miguel said. He didn’t outright sing it, but his voice had a melodic quality to it as he spoke. Arthur was positive he didn’t want to hear Miguel sing anytime soon. 

Arthur frowned for a brief moment, but it instantly melted as Juliette turned to look at him.

“Hello, Arthur,” Juliette greeted.

“Howdy folks,” Arthur said.

Arthur glanced around, searching for the other bounty hunter. He didn’t see Daniel anywhere. He reckoned that was good for him, Daniel didn’t seem to trust him much. Not that he could blame him any. He was surprised Juliette still did after she’d figured out who he was. He wasn’t really sure if he deserved it, he wasn’t a good man by any means, but he was mighty grateful for it.

“What are you two doin’ down here? I’m gonna guess you ain’t tryin’ to rob a train,” Arthur mused.

“No, I’ll leave that to you,” Juliette chuckled. 

“Señorita blackmailed me,” Miguel said.

“I did not blackmail you,” Juliette corrected. “You offered me a deal and I took it. It is not my concern if you forgot it.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile. She sounded like she was negotiating with someone important, not a drunk bounty hunter. He wished he could’ve heard exactly what she’d said to convince him.

“Never make a deal with a drunk man,” Miguel scoffed. “Lucky I had spare time!”

“He was thrown out of the saloon in Valentine,” Juliette provided.

“Sounds about right,” Arthur said.

“Morgan,” Miguel said.

Arthur stared at Miguel with a frown. He didn’t like that Miguel knew his name. He didn’t ever introduce himself, but hell he knew he didn’t have to. Even with all their lying low, their names were still recognized. Gotten Bill caught for it. Arthur still wasn’t sure why Miguel was lettin’ him walk around; he hadn’t tried once to wrangle Arthur.

“How about a friendly shooting competition. Five dollars to whoever shoots the most bottles,” Miguel continued.

Arthur studied him uneasily. He had an angle, but Arthur couldn’t figure it. Miguel smirked at Arthur; all too aware Arthur was struggling to read him.

“Shooting competition?” Arthur asked roughly, his voice low and rumbling, filled with distrust.

“We were shooting bottles,” Juliette explained. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow and noticed the pistol in her hand. That had to be the same one she shot the man with.

“Got any better?” Arthur asked.

“I have not shot his foot,” Juliette said with a slight smile. Miguel looked down at his foot, as if to make sure. “I am doing well, but he is a surprisingly good shot drunk.”

“I am not drunk yet; I’m still speaking English!” Miguel exclaimed. He looked back to Arthur with a wry smile. “How ‘bout it, you in?”

Arthur considered it for a moment. He looked over at Juliette and she smiled, watching him.

“Sure, why not,” he relented.

He walked over to them and lined himself up with Miguel while Juliette moved back a safe distance.

“Not gonna try your luck?” Arthur asked.

“No, I’m plenty aware I have no chance against you,” Juliette said.

“The game is simple, señor, shoot four-“ Miguel began.

“Five,” Juliette corrected.

“Five bottles and you win,” Miguel continued. “Before me of course, if you can.” 

“I reckon I can do that,” Arthur said.

“Alright, then, get your gun ready-“ Arthur pulled out his revolver as Miguel readied his rifle. “And shoot!”

Arthur instantly lined up his shot on a bottle and pulled the trigger. It exploded and he lined up the next shot. He continued to shoot the bottles until he’d gotten five. There were still two left and as Arthur managed to get one, Miguel shot the final one.

“Damn it all, how the hell did you beat me?” Miguel asked in frustration.

“Better shot I suppose,” Arthur said.

“Ahh damn… I’d heard you were a hell of a shot, killed half of Strawberry in a minute, didn’t ya?” Miguel asked. His tone hadn’t shifted at all, but his eyes were locked on to Arthur with a harsh scrutiny.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, and he holstered his revolver. He didn’t trust himself with it in hand, he was already fighting the urge to shoot him. Miguel smirked. This man knew exactly how to get under his skin.

“Still alive,” Arthur grumbled. “Gotta be a good shot out here.”

“Especially with law enforcement chasing you ‘round every bend,” Miguel mused.

Arthur glared at him and Miguel laughed.

“You are easy to rile, my friend!”

“Firstly, we ain’t friends,” Arthur said lowly. “Second, I ain’t a man to anger lightly.”

Miguel’s smile remained, he seemed undaunted. Arthur couldn’t figure him out. He liked taunting him too much, it was like he wanted Arthur to shoot him. Arthur wasn’t known for his patience. Never had been. If Juliette weren’t around, he would’ve shot him dead already.

He looked over at Juliette uncertainly, kicking himself for even threatening Miguel. Her smile was gone, but she didn’t seem upset at him, her gaze was locked onto Miguel. She evaluated him; her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Why must you make an enemy out of everyone?” Juliette asked.

Her voice was flat and unamused.

She looked over at Arthur as she noticed his gaze on her. She smiled slightly. That was all it took for Arthur to feel his anger dissipate.

“I’m not!” Miguel said with a cackle. “Only the ones that would shoot me! I like to skip ahead, no point waiting!”

“I ain’t goin’ to shoot you,” Arthur scoffed. “Not for lack of tryin’ on your part.”

“Just testing the waters ‘s all,” Miguel said with a smirk.

“Do not trust me?” Juliette asked. 

“It ain’t you I don’t trust, señorita-“

“If you do not trust my associates then you do not trust my judgement,” Juliette said.

“It was not a slight against you,” Miguel promised.

His gaze slid back to Arthur.

“He has a habit of irritating everyone he meets,” Juliette said with a sigh.

Arthur’s gaze flickered back to Juliette for a moment and he chuckled.

“I’m learnin’, Jules,” Arthur said. “Real interestin’ friends you keep.”

“Believe me, I know,” Juliette said.

She looked up at Arthur with a slight smile.

“Enjoyin’ your time in America, I take it?” Arthur asked with a chuckle.

“I am,” Juliette said, her eyes shining bright with amusement. 

“Do you want to try and raise the stakes? Come on, could win real big, huh?” Miguel asked.

Arthur looked back to see Miguel was aiming his rifle up towards a flock of birds flying by.

“Have you not lost enough money, Miguel?” Juliette asked.

“Señorita, you have to lose money to make money,” Miguel declared.

He shot towards the flock of birds and Arthur watched as one of the birds plummeted down. Miguel smiled, satisfied. 

“That seems mighty counter intuitive,” Arthur commented dryly.

“Perhaps,” Miguel admitted. “I live for the thrill of competition!”

“Maybe another day then,” Arthur said.

“Alright, I’m a man of my word,” Miguel said. He pulled out some cash and handed it to Arthur.

“Thank you kindly,” Arthur said as he pocketed it.

“What about you, señorita?” Miguel asked. “Up for another round?”

“No, I have wasted enough bullets,” Juliette said. 

“Your loss,” Miguel said.

“Thank you for your help, Miguel,” Juliette said. “I will see you around.”

“See you,” Miguel said. “Keep an eye on your… associate.”

He chuckled at the word associate, but Juliette easily ignored him. Arthur had a harder time. He shot a look at Miguel and a devilish look crossed Miguel’s eyes. Arthur grimaced. Miguel was enjoying this too much. He had to like seeing Arthur glower, well aware Arthur wasn’t about to do anything with Juliette nearby.

“Now I understand why you were thrown out,” Juliette said. “Try not to get yourself shot.”

“Can’t make any promises,” Miguel chuckled.

“Come on,” Juliette said to Arthur.

Juliette turned and walked towards the horses. Arthur followed, glancing back at Miguel briefly.

“I coulda taught you to shoot,” Arthur muttered bitterly.

Would’ve done it in an instant if it meant keeping the bounty hunters away. He knew nothing came of their first bounty, but he couldn’t help but worry the pair would get Juliette shot.

“Is that so?” Juliette asked.

Her voice was even, but her smile had grown.

“I reckon so,” Arthur said. “I ain’t a bad shot.”

“I remember,” Juliette said. “That is not a day I will forget anytime soon.”

“I won’t neither,” Arthur agreed. “Not everyday someone goes out lookin’ for wolves.”

“I am glad I am memorable then,” Juliette said.

“More than memorable, miss Bellerose,” Arthur chuckled.

As they drew closer to the horses Arthur spotted Miguel’s paint horse not far away. She was standing on the top of the hill, her saddle strapped with several other guns. He frowned for a moment, his gaze flicking back to Juliette. He was in no place to say she should avoid Miguel, hell he might as well tell her to avoid him if he did.

“I have something for you,” Juliette said, dragging him back from his thoughts.

He looked over at her curiously. She was at her saddlebag, putting away her holstered pistol.

“Might want to keep it on you,” Arthur said. “It ain’t particularly safe out here.” 

“Perhaps,” Juliette agreed.

She tugged out an envelope from her saddlebag and walked back to him. She handed it to him and he accepted it curiously. He opened the envelope to reveal two equally surprising items, cash and a photograph. He tugged the photograph out and surveyed it. It was the wolves, four of them heading towards the camera with snapping jaws.

“In case it was not memorable enough,” Juliette said. “I had an extra print made.”

“That’s real fine,” Arthur said as he examined it.

It was an encounter he’d never forget, but he was mighty grateful for the print. He’d found that his line of work brought him away from people suddenly, often leaving him with nothing more than memories. He had his journal entries of her, but not even his journal was permanent. Last one got destroyed in a fire, leaving nothing but burned scraps.

“Thanks,” Arthur said.

“Of course,” Juliette said.

He looked back at the envelope and surveyed the cash. He tugged the end of it out to count a hundred.

“You really did rob a train,” Arthur said in disbelief. “What’s this for?”

“You helped me get the picture, I thought it was only right you got some of the profit.”

Arthur looked up at her in surprise.

“Photography pays this well?”

“Not always,” Juliette admitted. “I am afraid my lack of talent makes it a lot less lucrative, but… it is a start.” She glanced back to him with a slight smile. “Planning to trade your gun for a camera?”

“Not exactly,” Arthur said. “I ain’t any good at cameras.”

“I could always use an assistant,” Juliette said.

“Assistant am I?” Arthur asked in amusement.

“Not yet,” Juliette said. “But you could be.”

“Mighty kind offer there, Jules,” Arthur chuckled.

Shots sounded from the tracks and Arthur glanced to see another bird falling. He looked back to Juliette to see her mounting Fleur.

“Where you off to now?” Arthur asked.

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. “I was heading South when I ran into Miguel… now I suppose it would be better to save that for another day. It is a long journey to the next town.”

“Reckon so,” Arthur agreed.

He walked to Whiskey and hauled himself up. He looked back to Juliette to see her staring off into the distance with a slight frown. There was a bow hooked to her saddle with a quiver beside it.

“Got yourself a bow?” he asked.

“Yes,” Juliette said, her gaze returning to him. “I thought it would be better than a pistol for hunting.”

“Is it?”

“In theory,” Juliette said.

He was beginning to realize she did a lot of things in theory. He couldn’t exactly blame her, he reckoned there was a lot of stuff she hadn’t ever seen, let alone done before. He knew she came from a rich family with a business in… textiles, wasn’t it? He was willing to bet she never expected to be out here. He still didn’t know why she was, not really, but he wasn’t one to press. He’d kept plenty from her, she had the same right.

Juliette guided Fleur forward and Arthur led Whiskey to follow. Whiskey fell into step beside Fleur.

“I am slowly learning I do not know much,” Juliette said.

Her voice held a strange weight to it, it made him hesitate. She looked up at him tiredly. She seemed a lot older then, strangely world weary.

“That is why I am out here, I suppose,” Juliette continued. “At the very least, I can aim a pistol now.”

“If you got the time, I can teach ya to hunt,” Arthur offered uncertainly.

He wasn’t quite sure how to respond, his gut reaction had to been to help her hunt. He knew that probably wasn’t the right answer, he wasn’t very good at talking. Somehow always found just the wrong thing to say. He’d shot himself in the foot many times while talking with Mary. He could always tell when he’d said something she didn’t like. Juliette seemed to like his answer, her smile returned slowly.

“I would enjoy that,” Juliette said. “Do you have the time?”

“Reckon I do,” Arthur said. “Huntin’ ‘s the same as workin’.”

“Lead the way then.”

Arthur was suddenly very grateful for all of the hunting trips he’d been sent on. Pearson had gotten too used to having fresh meat and whenever Charles wasn’t out, he tried to convince Arthur to do it. He’d hunted once and now he was pegged as the hunter. That was how it usually happened at camp, you did one thing right and suddenly people came to you for it. Happened the same way with small chores, bringing water to the wash basins, carrying sacks to the wagon, hay to the horses, Arthur did it once and suddenly he was the work horse. Never got much time to rest in camp no more, always had somethin’ to do while the others lazed about. Hosea and Grimshaw tried to whip the camp into shape, but it weren’t easy.

It wasn’t all bad, really. He ended up taking care of Jack for similar reasons. Watched him once and suddenly he was the wet nurse for him, but… Arthur had a soft spot for the kid. Might hate his pa still, but damn the kid was cute. Couldn’t ever say no to him. He had a hard time sayin’ no in general. Never could turn down Dutch, no matter how stupid the mission. If he’d had it his way, Micah would’ve hung in Strawberry. But Dutch said save ‘im… so he did.

He felt an awful lot like a dog. He’d be pointed in a direction, told to shoot ‘n he would. He was beginning to realize he needed to consider things more, listen to Hosea more. Hosea had been right about a lot of things.

They ended up in the Heartlands, near one of Arthur’s favored hunting spots. They left the horses and continued on foot. He took his own bow with him, hoping having it would make things easier.

He wasn’t a great teacher. When he was younger, Dutch had asked him to teach John to swim. Arthur had taken John out in a boat; told him they were just fishing. After they got far enough from the shore, he tipped the boat. He thought that’d be easiest, that John's instincts would kick in and he’d figure it out. Instead, John flailed around like a damned cat and somehow nearly drowned in less than ten feet of water. Arthur wouldn’t lie, it was pretty damn funny. After he’d dragged John to shore, Arthur couldn’t stop laughing. John had refused to get near water since. 

“Know how to shoot a bow?” Arthur asked.

Juliette hesitated a moment and Arthur looked over to her. A loose strand of her light hair had fallen in her face. She brushed it behind her ear and caught his gaze. Curiosity filled her green eyes as he smiled.

“What?” Juliette asked.

“Nothin’,” Arthur said. “You ever shot before?”

“Not a bow,” Juliette admitted. “I have _seen _a bow be shot, but…”

“I ain’t too used to it neither,” Arthur said. “Only learned a couple weeks ago.”

“Really?” Juliette asked in surprise. “Who taught you?”

“Charles,” Arthur answered. “He’s uh…”

“Part of your gang?” Juliette mused.

“Yeah,” Arthur said.

He realized too late he probably shouldn’t be so eager to give away information but speaking to her felt so natural. Words escaped him before he could stop them.

“Sorry, I do not mean to pry,” Juliette said. “Feel free to not answer if you are not comfortable.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur said instantly.

The problem wasn’t him being uncomfortable, it was _how _comfortable he was. He already felt far too comfortable around her, liked being with her too much. He’d been spending more time away from camp not working. He was pretty sure Hosea had noticed; it was only a matter of time before he got scolded for it.

“Ain’t no point hidin’ it no more,” Arthur said.

“Were you hiding it?”

“Yeah,” Arthur admitted. “Didn’t think sayin’ I’m an outlaw would help things. Thought I might scare you off.”

“I do not scare easy,” Juliette said.

“I know that now,” Arthur said. “Juliette… I don’t want to trick you or nothin’. I ain’t a good man, probably not someone you should associate with.”

Juliette considered this for a moment as they walked over the hill in a brief silence.

“Maybe,” Juliette said. “You have not proven yourself a bad man to me… I am sure you have done things in the past that are not… good, but I do not think that is who you are.”

“How do you figure that?” 

He’d done a lot of bad things. Spilled too much blood to ever be a good man.

“You have been kind to me,” Juliette said. “I was nothing more than a stranger and you still stopped to help me.”

“That’s different,” Arthur muttered.

“How is it?” Juliette asked.

“I… well,” Arthur fumbled with his words. “Just tryin’ to impress you was all. You’re a pretty lady, y’know.”

“Am I?”

Arthur looked away from her, embarrassment crashing through him. He shouldn’t have said that.

“I mean, I don’t-“ Arthur began, stumbling over his words. Juliette looked at him with a knowing smile and he relaxed, returning her smile. “I reckon so.”

“You did not see me first,” Juliette said. “You saw Fleur.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t on her own,” Arthur muttered.

“That does not sound bad to me,” Juliette said.

“Well I figured if she was, I could bring her to the stables ‘n sell her,” Arthur scoffed.

“Still,” Juliette said. “Could have left her to the wolves, but you stopped. Could have robbed me.”

“I never could’ve robbed you.”

Juliette chuckled softly.

“You helped that man too,” Juliette said. “The man that got bit by the snake.”

“How do you know about that?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

He’d saved him about a week ago, horrible encounter Arthur wished never to repeat. Had to suck the venom out from his damned leg. The man had bought him a new revolver for it, but he still wasn’t sure if it was worth it.

“He was talking about it to some fellow,” Juliette explained. “I knew it had to be you.”

“Had to be?” Arthur mused.

“Had to be,” Juliette confirmed.

He smiled slightly. He’d overheard the man talking to one of his friends, he wasn’t sure how Juliette figured out it was him.

He guided them to a nice open area with a few scattered bushes large enough to hide behind. The Heartlands was a pretty good hunting area, the prey was easy to spot without much undergrowth to run around in. There were bison further north, deer and rabbits roamed in the area they were in. He could see some not far away, grazing.

“First things first, we gotta bait ‘em out,” Arthur said. “We could try ‘n track one, but this will be easier.”

Juliette nodded.

He pulled out some herbivore bait from his satchel and looked around for a good spot for them. He ended up spotting a rock nestled by a bush they could hide by downwind of a small clearing. He took his knife and began to set up the bait, explaining as he did it. After the bait was set, he led them back to a good hiding spot behind a boulder and a scraggly tree. The tree wasn’t much taller than him, maybe a foot, and didn’t have many leaves. It seemed a step from death. It had enough branches to still provide adequate cover.

“Always gotta be careful to be out of sight and downwind,” Arthur explained. “Prey won’t come if there’s any sign of a predator. You can buy somethin’ to cover your scent in stores, but as long as you ain’t too close being downwind should be plenty.”

“What if there is not wind?” Juliette asked.

Arthur considered this, stumped. When Charles had taught him to hunt, he hadn’t thought to ask questions. He rarely did, just did as he was told.

“Guess it depends how good you’re hidin’ is,” Arthur said. “I usually track prey down, never been an issue then.”

Juliette nodded with a thoughtful frown.

“Know how to shoot a bow?” Arthur asked.

“I have seen people shoot a bow,” Juliette said.

Arthur looked over at her.

“I know _how _it works, but not how to…” Juliette trailed off uncertainly.

“Shoot?” Arthur guessed.

“Precisely,” Juliette confirmed. “It is the same issue I had with the pistol; I knew _how_ to do it… but it is easier said than done.”

Arthur chuckled.

“Only figured that once you shot the guy?”

“Yes,” Juliette admitted.

She flushed slightly in embarrassment.

“I mean it is a gun, you simply aim and shoot, but I had failed to consider how little time you have to aim,” Juliette added quickly. “You made it seem easy enough.”

“Don’t have to explain to me, Jules,” Arthur said. “Just glad you’re alright.”

She relaxed and smiled slowly.

“Try not to shoot folks,” Arthur advised. “Don’t usually end well.”

“You should consider taking your own advice sometime,” Juliette said. “Shooting Miguel would not solve anything, despite how loud he is.”

“I know,” Arthur muttered.

He was still mad at himself for even considering it. That’s exactly what Miguel had wanted to, he’d wanted to piss Arthur off. He’d been so damned happy when it’d happened, to happy for a man about to get shot. Arthur still couldn’t figure why he’d done it exactly; his best guess was that Miguel was tryin’ to prove to Juliette Arthur wasn’t someone to hang around. He wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t like the reminder.

“I am glad you had the patience to endure him,” Juliette said after a moment.

“I ain’t got much patience,” Arthur admitted. “Not especially proud of it.”

He knew Juliette had more to say, but she kept quiet, unwilling to voice it just yet. He was almost glad she didn’t, he knew he’d done a lot of questionable things. She could ask about any number and realize just how horrible he was. He was an outlaw, but he didn’t want her to see that side of him.

Juliette stared ahead, a distant look in her eyes again. Arthur cleared his throat uncertainly, trying to think of a way to change the subject. He didn’t want her lingering on the fact that he’d nearly shot her friend.

“How ‘bout I show you to shoot the bow?” Arthur suggested. “While we wait for somethin’ to come out.”

Juliette nodded in agreement, seemingly just as glad as he was to have a distraction. It was a truth they’d both have to face eventually, but he was more than willing to push it off for a while longer. He was sure it wouldn’t last forever, but for now they both seemed content ignoring it.

“Alright,” Juliette said.

He started to explain everything Charles had told him, how to hold the bow, and how to stand. The problem was, Charles had told him all of this weeks ago. Arthur couldn’t rightly remember every little thing he’d said. He ended up relying on his own experience and knowledge, what was easier for him.

Juliette listened to everything he said intently and followed his guidance. She was a lot easier to teach than John.

“Your bait worked,” Juliette said quietly.

Arthur looked up to see a few small creatures had come out and started to nip at the bait. The largest of which was a rabbit. It looked decent; its pelt seemed good.

“You ready?” Arthur asked. “Aim for the rabbit.”

Juliette hesitated, but followed his instruction. She drew the bowstring back, but her arm quivered from the weight of it. Arthur moved to be behind her and set his hands over hers, steadying the bow. He realigned her aim to focus on the rabbit. If it was him shooting, he’d aim for the head, but this time he aimed for the center of the mass, hoping that would make it easier for her.

“Ready?” Arthur murmured.

Juliette nodded and Arthur let go. Her grip on the bow remained steady. She released the bowstring and instantly the arrow shot through the air silently. It plunged deeply into the rabbit and the rabbit let out a small squeal before collapsing. The squirrels and mice instantly dashed off, scurrying for cover.

“Nice job,” Arthur said.

“All it took was you doing most of the work,” Juliette said. 

“We all start somewhere, Jules,” Arthur reminded. “Reckon it’s a good start, ain’t it?”

“Best one I can think of, yes,” Juliette said.

Arthur smiled.

“C’mon, we gotta get it before a coyote snatches it,” Arthur said as he towards the rabbit.

“You would chase after it, would you not?” Juliette asked, her voice filled with humor.

“Reckon I’d have to, wouldn’t I?” Arthur chuckled.

Juliette followed him.

“Was it hard for you to learn?” Juliette asked.

“It was different,” Arthur admitted. “Ain’t…. hard, just different.”

It took some getting used to, but it didn’t long for Arthur to get a handle on it. It was different from shooting a gun, but the principle remained the same. Just had to figure out how to aim it and Arthur was good.

He stopped in front of the bunny and leaned down to inspect it. The arrow had punctured just below its neck. Not a perfectly clean kill, but a good one none the less.

“Not bad,” Arthur commented. “Can salvage plenty of meat, maybe sell the pelt.”

He removed the arrow from the rabbit, careful to not damage the point of it. He cleaned it off against his pants before examining it. The point was still good, she could use it again. He handed it back to Juliette and she accepted it. He heard a soft _chnk _as the arrow fell against the others in her quiver.

“Should probably wait to skin it till you want to cook it,” Arthur suggested. “Rots easy without its pelt.”

“Alright,” Juliette said, her voice sounding off, almost strained.

Arthur glanced up at her to see her staring at the rabbit uneasily.

“Ain’t squeamish, are ya?” Arthur asked.

“Not particularly, no,” Juliette said.

He chuckled softly and picked up the rabbit.

“It gets easier,” Arthur promised.

Juliette didn’t say anything. He looked back at her as he stood up. There was a dark look in her eyes and he knew she’d wanted to say somethin’. He braced himself for it, knowing fully well what she was thinking. Yet she didn’t say it. 

Instead she looked back and whistled for the horses. Arthur followed suit, but he didn’t think it mattered much. Last time, Whiskey had just followed Fleur.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Juliette said after a moment. “I am not sure what I would do without you.”

“You’d figure it out, I’m sure,” Arthur said.

“Perhaps,” Juliette admitted. “I am glad nonetheless.”

“Glad to have an outlaw around?” Arthur mused.

“Yes,” Juliette said with a slow smile. “I did not expect to, but I enjoy your company.”

“Ain’t many people say that,” Arthur said.

“Really?” Juliette asked in surprise. “A handsome man like yourself should have no trouble finding company.”

“I ain’t ever been handsome,” Arthur said.

“I disagree,” Juliette said.

“Didn’t you call me a predator?” Arthur asked in amusement. 

“I did,” Juliette agreed.

Her gaze shifted away from him to search the area around them.

“Don’t think the two go together.”

“Rarely they do,” Juliette admitted. “But when they do… that person is often the most dangerous.”

Her eyes moved back to him, catching his. He felt a chill travel across his skin as she stared at him.

“How’s that?” Arthur asked quietly.

Her smile returned but seemed melancholic.

“They are the ones you find yourself bargaining for,” Juliette said. “Trying to ignore the reality of things.”

Arthur stared at her, his pulse racing. He felt like he should say something, but no words came to him. He knew what she meant, knew what she was thinking. He was an outlaw, things wouldn't be easy nor end well. He knew that and she had to know it too. He wanted to ignore it for as long as he could, but he knew as well as she did they'd have to face that reality soon enough.

Silence hung over them, until the distant sound of the horses returning grew louder. Fleur and Whiskey appeared, Fleur leading the way towards them. While in the wild, Arthur had noticed Whiskey liked to follow behind the other horses, rarely ever leading. That trait seemed to persist even then as Fleur marched towards them and Whiskey followed. He doubted Fleur had ever been wild, he was willing to bet she'd been bred. That didn't seem to deter Whiskey in the slightest, he still hung close to her. He was surprised Fleur endured it, he knew Whiskey didn't usually get along well with the other horses. Fleur didn't seem to mind Whiskey in the slightest. 

Juliette said something in French to Fleur as she approached. Arthur watched as Juliette stroked her neck gently. He felt a heavy weight in his chest settle.

Whiskey came to a stop beside Fleur and Juliette smiled as he moved closer to her. She spoke in French to him and Whiskey closed his eyes. Juliette delicately petted him.

“He don’t like most people,” Arthur said as he walked over.

Whiskey opened his eyes to peer at Arthur. Arthur walked past Whiskey to Fleur. Fleur didn’t react to him, but Arthur still kept a close gaze on her as he tied the rabbit to her saddle. Some horses didn’t take well to strangers approaching them. She’d been fine with him earlier that day, but her mood could’ve changed. Fleur didn’t mind him.

“He is a good horse,” Juliette said.

“Around you he is,” Arthur scoffed.

Juliette glanced up at Arthur with a flash of amusement in her eyes.

“What?” Arthur asked curiously.

“Miguel made it seem like you were the same way,” Juliette mused.

“He’s not wrong,” Arthur said. “Don’t like him sayin’ it.”

“Neither do I,” Juliette agreed. “I am sorry for that… I did not expect him to say that.”

“Ain’t no need to apologize,” Arthur said. “Not your fault.”

Juliette considered this as she patted Whiskey’s neck.

“Still… I am sorry you had to get involved with them,” Juliette said. “I do not think they will do anything, but… it would be safer if they did not meet you.”

“Worried about me?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” Juliette said. “I should be more upset about you _being _an outlaw, but I have found myself more concerned for you.”

“Really?” Arthur asked in amazement.

He could still remember when Mary had found out. She’d been pissed at him, wouldn’t talk to him for days. Just when he was about to give up, she sent him a letter asking him to meet with her. Like the fool he was, Arthur had run to her. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but she’d still been mad. Demanded to know what his intentions were, if he was just going to abandon her, or if he expected her to join his life of crime. Arthur still didn’t know what he _had _been thinking. He hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he was beginning to realize he rarely did when it came to women. He never thought of the ending, just where they were. That’s what went wrong with Mary and Eliza, he’d entered the relationship without considering how it would all end.

“Shouldn’t be worrying about outlaws, miss Bellerose,” Arthur murmured.

“No,” Juliette agreed. “I am afraid it is far too late for that.”

Arthur looked over at her, but she didn’t elaborate. She smiled at Whiskey for a moment, before turning back to Arthur. She walked over to him slowly. He watched her closely as she approached, suddenly feeling nervous. She stopped in front of him and her smile softened.

“Thank you, for everything,” Juliette said quietly.

“Ain’t nothin’,” Arthur murmured.

She leaned up and he instantly leaned his head down. She set a hand on his arm as he felt her kiss his cheek gently. All too soon she was gone, stepping back from him. He swallowed, lost for words.

“Take care, Arthur,” Juliette said with a small smile. “Until next time.”

She mounted Fleur in the time it took Arthur to find his words again.

“Till next time, Jules.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur n Juliette are finally getting closer... sure hope nothing happens to change that
> 
> but we get to see more of Miguel being a bastard! I sort of love using him to poke fun at Arthur. It's a weird situation where he's someone Arthur absolutely would want to kill if they met any other way... but yknow situation as it is Arthur can't just shoot him 
> 
> sorry for the long period in between this and the last chapter, I've been writing a lot more original work lately so I got wrapped up in that c': next two chapters are already mostly written (bc i was excited for them and wrote them before this chapter as you do) but just need some editing/filling in the blanks 
> 
> if you have any questions/comments feel free to leave it below! I love seeing everyone's thoughts c:


	10. Blessed be the Widowmakers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i just say i'm actually really proud of this chapter title?? it's a play off of some of the mission titles in rdr2 which i thought was clever but... anyway i hope you enjoy this chapter !

Things had been calm the past two weeks. She enjoyed her time wandering. The land was kind and the people wanted nothing to do with each other. Arthur’s visits became more frequent and they would spend time simply enjoying each other’s company. There had been a few days where he would write in his journal and she would read a book. It was relaxing. She stumbled upon Daniel and Miguel once, but they had been chasing a bounty could not talk for long. Everything seemed to going her way, finally.

For once in her life she was not worried.

She knew she was being foolish pretending nothing would happen, that they could remain this way. But still, she ignored it, and everything felt strangely perfect.

Of course, all good things come to an end.

A sickness took hold of her suddenly, overnight. She woke up to a piercing headache and a nausea she couldn’t shake. She ignored it at first, but it quickly took hold over her. She was constantly cold, even with a jacket on, and after the first day had passed, she grew dizzy. Everything became harder, even riding Fleur was difficult. Fleur could not move faster than a walk, if she did Juliette felt as if she could not hold herself steady.

Finally, after the third day, Juliette gave in and headed to Valentine to see if she could get some medicine. The nausea had passed, but her headache remained. She used to get headaches often when she was in France. She could never tell if it was from stress or sickness.

They made slow progress back, but it was the fastest Juliette could manage. Fleur was patient and did not seem to mind, even as Juliette had to make them double back upon taking the wrong turn. She truly was lucky to have Fleur; she was not sure what she would do without her.

She could tell they were close to Valentine without even looking up, she could smell the cattle. It was overpowering, giving her a fresh wave of nausea. The smell had never been pleasant, it overhung Valentine in a fog, but Juliette had always been able to ignore it in the past.

As they got closer, it got worse. She was tempted to turn around and head back, but she knew that was a horrible plan. She couldn’t handle the headaches for much longer. They were never fun, but she had always been able to push through it. Yet that was not working this time. She did not have many options.

Juliette guided Fleur down the main street, forcing herself to sit up straighter. She did not want to appear weak, but she was aware she did not look great. Juliette knew Valentine was not the safest place, it certainly did not help that she had shot a guy and had helped bring another to jail. One of those should not be an issue anytime soon, but she still worried. She was not a good aim at her best, she did not trust herself to even be able to shoot straight then.

She continued down through the town, heading towards the doctor’s office. A familiar voice called out to her.

“Ay, señorita, you do not look so good,” Miguel said with a frown. “You visiting the doctor?”

It took Juliette a moment to understand what he had said. The words banged around in her head painfully. It certainly did not help that English was not her first language. It was rarely ever an issue, she spoke fluently, but it grew significantly harder when she was sick. Everything was harder.

She looked over to see Daniel and Miguel standing outside of the sheriff’s office, both of their horses hitched.

“Unfortunately,” Juliette managed.

“You ok?” Daniel asked. “Look like you’ve been through hell.”

“It has not been fun, no,” Juliette said.

She brought Fleur to a halt outside of the doctor’s office and waited a moment, gathering herself. After a moment she finally began to dismount her, holding onto the horn of the saddle tightly as she did so. Fleur remained perfectly still for her.

Juliette leaned against her as she found her footing and patted her neck gently. She took in a steadying breath, trying to stop the world from spinning.

“_Thank you,” _Juliette murmured in French.

“Need help?” Daniel asked uncertainly.

Juliette looked over to see the pair watching her. They’d walked closer.

“No, but thank you,” Juliette said. “I am sure you have bounties to hunt down.”

“Not right now,” Miguel said. “We are all yours.”

“Wonderful,” Juliette muttered.

“Isn’t it?” Miguel laughed.

His laugh pierced through her, making her head ring. Juliette closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She turned back to the building and ignored them, trying her best to seem normal.

She walked up onto the porch of the doctor’s office carefully as the dizziness finally subsided. Her headache persisted. Footsteps sounded near her and she looked over to see the two approaching her. Quickly Juliette went inside the office, closing the door behind her.

She was sure they meant well, but she preferred to handle this on her own.

“Good afternoon ma’am,” the clerk said. “What are you lookin’ for?”

Juliette studied the medicine available and picked what she thought to be the best, not even answering the doctor. He was a doctor of a livestock town. She did not trust his intellect much. She was willing to bet half of this medicine would never be sold in any respectable town. Perhaps that was harsh, but she was not feeling particularly kind that day.

She paid for it and walked back out. She spotted a bench along the side of the building and took a seat on it. Juliette tried to twist the top of the medicine off but struggled with it.

“Want some help?”

She recognized Daniel’s voice instantly. It was rough, scratchy, and low. His voice sounded like thunder in the distance, a low echo.

Juliette frowned down at the glass bottle. The lid was screwed on tight, tight enough that she knew she would struggle with it even if she was at her best.

“Sure,” Juliette relented after a moment.

She handed it to him and watched as he took it in his gloved hands. The gloves he was wearing lacked fingers. She had seen similar ones being sold in the general store, but she did not quite understand the purpose of them. She knew there was one, Daniel did not seem the type to wear something that was not functional.

She felt a strange sense of comfort in the fact that he struggled with it for a moment. He handed it back to her and she accepted it.

“Thanks,” Juliette said.

Daniel nodded.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked.

“Go ahead,” Juliette said.

Daniel sat near her, leaving a gap between them.

She read over the label of the medicine while Daniel stared out towards the butcher. Juliette took the correct dose of the medicine and was disappointed to find nothing changed. She had not expected it to, medicine worked slow usually, but she had hoped for a miracle cure.

“Been sick?” Daniel asked.

She looked over to see his eyes on the medicine in her hand.

“Yes,” Juliette sighed. “But I will survive.”

“I’m sure you will,” Daniel agreed. “Don’t seem all that bad if you were able to ride into town.”

Juliette nodded in agreement, sliding the medicine into her satchel. 

“Where did Miguel run off to?” Juliette asked.

“Gun store,” Daniel answered.

“Need more bullets?” Juliette asked.

She studied him for a moment but did not see any sign of injury.

“Yeah, last bounty didn’t go easy,” he grumbled. “We figured as much, he was wanted dead or alive.”

_Dead or alive. _

Juliette wondered if Arthur was wanted dead or alive. She hoped he wasn’t, that the cost of the bounty came from him being alive.

As if he could read her thoughts, Daniel said,” Morgan’s wanted dead or alive in Blackwater.”

Juliette nodded stiffly.

“Careful with him, Juliette,” Daniel said. “He ain’t… he’ll get you shot.”

Juliette considered this for a moment in silence. He was not wrong. It was unlikely she would escape this forever unscathed, but that was true even without her knowing Arthur.

“He has saved me from being shot,” Juliette said. “I suppose we will see how this will end.”

“You ok bein’ killed over him?”

Juliette didn’t say anything. She did not have an answer for him. She was not afraid of death. A part of her almost welcomed it, death would certainly solve all of her problems... She had come to America expecting it eventually, the question had always been when. Juliette had known if she made it through the first month, it was likely she would be able to live at least a year. A year was as far ahead she looked, after that… well she did not know. She was steadily approaching that marker and she had yet to be shot. She had been lucky so far.

“I do not know,” Juliette finally said. “He has not given me reason to distrust him or to prove he is malicious.”

“Not yet,” Daniel said lowly.

Juliette glanced over at him for a moment.

“Look I ain’t… you’ve been decent to us,” Daniel sighed. “Just tryin’ to look out for you is all. I want you to have all the facts on the matter.”

“I appreciate it,” Juliette said.

Daniel hesitated a moment and Juliette frowned. Was there more?  
“Strawberry got shot to hell and back a few weeks back,” Daniel said. “Same as Blackwater.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Juliette asked sharply.

She knew why, but she wanted to be wrong. Desperately, she wanted to be wrong.

“Morgan’s a damn good shot,” Daniel said. “He aims to kill. Four deputies died, five innocent folk tryin’ to defend their town, and countless injured. Worse in Blackwater.”

Juliette swallowed uneasily. Somehow having the number of casualties made it worse, all the more real.

“Was that why his bounty poster was up?”

“Sure is,” Daniel said. “Didn’t know it at the time, the sheriff filled us in.”

Juliette considered this. She did not know the circumstances for either of these, but it made her stomach twist.

“There you two are!” Miguel exclaimed.

Juliette looked up to see Miguel approaching them. He stopped as a brown tabby cat walked across the porch. He smirked and Juliette noticed Daniel frowned, as if he knew what was coming.

“Want me to beat it up for you, Daniel?” Miguel asked. He stopped at the edge of the porch.

“You’ll lose an eye too and we’ll be down to two between us,” Daniel scoffed.

“That’s all we need, Danny!” Miguel said.

“You’re an idiot,” Daniel declared.

Juliette glanced over at him to see he was smiling ever so slightly.

“That’s why you love me,” Miguel chuckled. “I keep life interesting.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Daniel said. “Never know what trouble you’ll scrounge up.”

Miguel laughed, loud enough to gain a glare from a passerby.

“You feeling better, señorita?” Miguel asked. “You look better.”

“I am,” Juliette said.

Her headache had reduced, and the dizziness had subsided. She was not sure if the latter was from sitting or the medicine, but she was grateful, nonetheless.

“Come have a drink with us then,” Miguel said.

“It is too early to drink,” Juliette remarked.

It was midafternoon and Juliette refused to drink this early. It was depressing. The few times she had was caused by something bad happening. She had no reason to drink this early.

“It is never too early,” Miguel scoffed. “Come on, it is a cure for sickness, isn’t it Daniel?”

“For your sickness, maybe,” Daniel said. “Ain’t gonna help anyone proper.”

“Ay, you wound me,” Miguel laughed. “I’ll be back!”

He walked towards the saloon and Juliette watched as he marched straight in without hesitation.

“He drinks a lot,” Juliette commented.

“Yeah, well… can’t blame him much,” Daniel said. “Ain’t exactly easy.”

Juliette looked to Daniel curiously.

“I suppose,” Juliette agreed. “Tell me, why did Miguel want to beat up a cat for you?”

“Lost my eye to a cougar,” Daniel explained. “Miguel saved me.”

“He did?” Juliette asked in surprise.

She would have expected Daniel to save Miguel, he did not seem the type to need saving… but then again against a cougar she supposed anyone would need help. She struggled to see Arthur ever needing help. To her he seemed to be an unstoppable force, his aim and perception unrivaled. She was glad he was on her side and appeared to be a morally good person. She knew Daniel did not trust him, but she… she did.

She trusted him. He had made a promise to her and she believed him.

“Yeah,” Daniel said, dragging her back from her thoughts. “Bastard was drunk too, but he… saved my ass.”

“How long ago was it?”

“Nearly three years now,” Daniel said. “Don’t know… what I’d do without him. My aim won’t ever be as good as it was, but he picks up the slack for me.”

Juliette nodded. Their dynamic made a lot more sense to her now. Miguel was loyal, she knew that. He and Daniel did not owe Juliette anything, but they’d warned her about Arthur. They had told her everything they knew without expecting anything in return. It was something she would not forget soon.

“You suit each other," Juliette decided. 

Daniel didn’t say anything right away. Juliette glanced over and saw he was smiling gently, his gaze unfocused ahead.

“Real glad to have the stupid bastard,” Daniel said.

They sat in a comfortable silence. Juliette’s headache had dulled more, until it was only a faint throbbing. She could handle it then. The ground had stopped shifting under her feet, she was finally beginning to feel like herself again.

Juliette looked over as she heard footsteps approaching them. Miguel had returned, a beer in hand.

“You two haven’t moved?” Miguel asked in astonishment.

“Worried if we moved, you’d just wander ‘round drunk till the sheriff threw you in jail,” Daniel said.

“You’d bail me out, wouldn’t you Danny?”

Daniel rolled his eye.

“Wouldn’t have much choice, now would I?”

Miguel laughed.

“That’s the spirit!”

Her head pulsed for a moment from the loudness of his voice. She held a hand to her head for a moment. Her forehead still felt warm to the touch.

“You ok, señorita?” Miguel asked, his voice falling uncertainly.

“Yes,” Juliette murmured. “I will be, at least.”

“At least you have not been shot,” Miguel chuckled.

“That is true,” Juliette said dryly. “I would like to keep it that way.”

Daniel and Miguel continued to talk, but Juliette tuned them out for the most part. Miguel spoke quieter than he normally did, he was typically very loud and boisterous. Now he was more subdued.

A loud crack sounded, a gunshot firing off in the distance. Juliette instantly was on her feet, her head swimming from both the sudden movement and the loudness of the gunshots echoing throughout the town. She closed her eyes, trying to ground herself.

As she opened her eyes, she focused on where she’d heard the gunshots. It was from her left, near the church. She stood frozen for a fraction of a second, before realizing the shots were growing closer.

“Señorita,” Miguel called, his tone serious.

His voice dragged her out of her paralysis, and she instantly searched for cover. Miguel had found refuge behind a wagon outside of the doctor’s office while Daniel moved towards the door. 

“Come on,” Daniel said.

Juliette followed him into the building and he instantly took a position beside the door frame. Juliette moved to the opposite side, her heart hammering. She looked over to see the clerk hid behind the counter. Juliette looked back to Daniel.

“What is going on?” Juliette asked.

“I don’t know,” Daniel admitted, his eye narrowed. “Just stay down. A gang might be robbin’… fuck I don’t know, the bank’s right there and that ain’t where they are-“

The gunshots grew louder, and she could hear the shouting drawing nearer. Her head pulsed painfully, reigniting.

“Got a gun?” Daniel asked.

Juliette nodded, reaching into her satchel to pull out her pistol. She typically kept it in Fleur’s saddlebag, but Arthur had convinced her to keep it on her.

“Stay back and don’t get shot,” Miguel said, he had to shout over the gunshots firing. “We’ll handle it.”

Not like she could do much else. Even if she was at her best, she was not a good enough shot to be much help.

Juliette nodded.

She watched as more civilians darted inside, taking cover in the buildings around them. She heard footsteps on the porch and glanced over to see the sheriff had walked out. He pulled out his revolver, his gaze trained on something Juliette could not see from her cover.

She looked up to see men with rifles positioned on the second-floor deck of the building across the street. They shot at the hidden threat and as Juliette watched them, a bullet tore through one of their heads. Blood splattered and they fell to the ground.

Juliette could feel her blood chill.

To see a man walking one moment, then lying dead made her shiver. It was sudden and instantaneous. There was no warning, no preparation. Simply a loud sound and he crumbled to the floor.

That was it.

This felt very different from the O’Driscolls. They had at least deserved it; she could rationalize their deaths. They had killed plenty before and would have killed them. But this man… as far as she was aware, he was innocent. Undeserving of this end.

It felt eerily familiar.

She could hear voices shouting then. The voices were muddled and overlapping, she couldn’t distinguish any individual words.

Daniel readied his pistol and shot. Juliette hid behind the wall for a moment, steadying her breath. Gunshots rang loudly around her and Juliette swallowed. She closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. Her head pulsed painfully with each gunshot, the ground swaying under her feet.

The gunshots drew closer, joining the sound of Daniel and Miguel’s guns. She knew it was better for her to simply remain in cover, her aim was not good enough to be useful. All she would do is get in the way.

She heard a sharp swear and looked over at Daniel. Blood was pooling out of his chest. Without thought Juliette moved towards him. Instantly the world lurched under her and she stumbled. A bullet whisked by her, nearly missing her.

“Juliette!” Daniel shouted.

Pain split through her forearm, a fierce burning she hadn’t expected. Warm blood ran down her arm, pain flicking through her. She continued forward, ignoring it. Daniel stumbled towards her, and she instantly caught him. She leaned him against the wall, holding a hand over his wound, blood pouring through her fingers.

“Dammit,” Daniel growled.

“Just hold on,” Juliette said.

She kept pressure on the wound, her gaze flicking back to Miguel. She watched as he fired and followed his aim to the attackers. This was the first time she’d been able to get a good look at them, now that she had changed cover. She studied the men slowly with a frown.

They were pushing a wagon through the town, giving cover to-

Her eyes widened.

She recognized one of the men firing at the town, he was unmistakable. His eyes were narrowed and far harsher than she could have ever imagined them to be. His lips were drawn in a scowl, his eyes trained on something- _someone _else.

He looked exactly like his bounty poster.

She watched as he lined up a shot and without thought he pulled the trigger. She heard a loud thump as someone collapsed, undoubtedly dead.

“What happened?” Miguel shouted. “I got one of them.”

Juliette didn’t say anything, her eyes still trained on Arthur. Her heart was hammering loudly, her mind completely blank as she watched him fire again. She watched Arthur, part of her unwilling to believe it. There was no denying it, that was _him. _His gaze shifted slowly, scanning for someone else to shoot.

“Juliette!” Miguel shouted in frustration. 

Something shifted in Arthur’s gaze and he immediately began to look around for something. His gaze swept across Valentine, landing on Miguel briefly. She did not think to move until his eyes were already on her. As their gazes connected, his expression broke. A look of shock washed over him, his gun falling for a moment. He stared at her, paralyzed. Her eyes narrowed slightly, studying him. This was the Arthur she knew, his eyes seemed far too gentle to ever harm anyone... and yet he had just proven her wrong on that. She knew he was honest with her, he had never lied, but somehow it still felt like a betrayal. His eyes were so soft and filled with kindness...

She closed her eyes, her heart feeling unbearably heavy. 

Gunshots rang out and Juliette looked back to Miguel to see blood dripping down his shoulder. She looked around for Fleur and was thankful to see her missing. With any luck, she had made it to safety.

She looked back to the wagon the men were pushing to see it near the edge of the main street, this nightmare would be over soon. Her gaze landed on Arthur again to see him still staring at her. Miguel looked to her.

“Dammit,” Miguel growled.

“Arthur, fucking shoot something!” A voice shouted loudly.

Arthur looked back and Juliette ducked back into the safety of the building, her mind reeling.

“What is it?” Daniel asked.

“They are almost out of town,” Juliette said. “You need to sit down.”

“I’m fin-“

“You were shot,” Juliette said firmly. 

Daniel frowned at her but didn’t fight when she moved to help him down. She helped him sit down, his back to the wall. She applied pressure to it.

“Doctor, we need your help,” Juliette said.

She heard nothing and swore lowly under her breath.

“Get over here,” Juliette demanded. “You will not be shot, come do your job.”

“Are you crazy?!” he shouted from behind the counter.

“If you do not get over here, I will shoot you myself,” Juliette declared.

The doctor hesitated a moment, before finally crawling out from behind the counter. He moved over to them and began to investigate Daniel’s wound. Juliette watched him closely, but once she was reassured, he would not retreat again she moved back to the doorframe. She took a deep breath before hurrying out. She kept her head low and headed straight for the wagon.

The sound of gunshots had been constant, but right then they seemed all the more threatening. She reached the wagon safely. Miguel had shifted sides, shooting to the right. Juliette moved carefully to the edge of the wagon, until she was at the back corner. She peered past it to see Arthur’s gang had abandoned their own wagon at the end of the main street. They were missing, the only left was Arthur. He shot someone near the butcher’s stand, before mounting Whiskey. Whiskey seemed nervous, he looked ready to bolt. Arthur kept a tight grip on the reins, still shooting, undoubtedly trying to buy them more time.

His gaze shifted across the town, landing on her. Juliette stared at him, a heavy weight settling in her chest. It was hard to read his expression from this far away, but she could make out what looked remorse. He closed his eyes briefly, before looking away from her. He spurred on Whiskey and quickly vanished from her sight. Gunfire followed him and Juliette found herself praying he made it safely to wherever he was going.

How did she end up praying for the outlaw instead of the people he shot?

She sighed, her head pulsing. She tried to ignore it and tentatively moved out of the cover of the wagon. There was no more gunfire in town, only the distant shots as they chased after Arthur. Juliette headed towards the butcher’s stand.

“Señorita,” Miguel called. “You-“

“Daniel was shot,” Juliette interrupted. A look of panic crossed Miguel’s eyes and she quickly added, “The doctor is attending to him now.”

Miguel instantly headed back towards the building and Juliette continued towards the stand. As she reached it, she spotted the man Arthur had shot. Blood was coming out of his chest like a flower blossoming. There were three shots in total and a lethal amount of blood pooling around him. The man was not particularly old, he looked to be around the age of Arthur. Mid-thirties if she were to bet.

He didn’t seem to see her as she walked over, but his gaze seemed unfocused. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving from the effort. It seemed with each breath he struggled more, and with each breath more blood would gush out.

“I am sorry,” Juliette said quietly.

The man’s brown eyes flickered to her, finally focusing on her. A corner of his lip turned up.

“Died a hero, at least,” he said.

He began to cough and held a hand to his mouth. Blood splattered it.

“Believe in Heaven?” he asked her once the coughing had subsided.

“I did,” Juliette said uncertainly.

“So did I,” the man said, his voice faint. “Guess I’ll finally get some answers.”

“I hope you do,” Juliette murmured as his eyes slid closed.

She watched as he took his final shuddering breath before falling still. Before she had been deafened by the noise, now… the silence weighed her down.

She noticed a ring on his finger. He was married. Did he have kids? Juliette closed her eyes, forcing that thought out of her mind. The man seemed to be nothing more than a local. He was armed only with a pistol that laid abandoned by his side.

_Died a hero. _

If he was the hero, then… she knew what that made Arthur.

Juliette took in a deep breath and released it with a shudder. Slowly, Juliette made her way back towards the doctor’s office. She felt strangely numb, her mind having forced all thoughts away from her. It felt as if her head was filled with cotton, blocking out everything around her. As she walked, she kept her gaze fixed on her destination. She did not need to be reminded of the destruction he had caused, the lives he had taken.

People moved around her, checking on each other, counting the dead. Juliette only had one goal then, to reach the doctor’s office. She had to check on Miguel and Daniel, they had both been shot.

As she walked into the doctor’s office, she spotted three new people had already came inside. A woman and two men. Juliette sighed and looked around to see Daniel and Miguel sitting beside each other. Daniel’s shirt was open, revealing bandages wrapped around his chest.

“How is it?” Juliette asked.

“Could be worse,” Daniel grumbled.

“Could be a hell of a lot better,” Miguel scoffed. “Not have a bullet in ya.”

Juliette nodded, crossing her arms. Pain flickered through her right arm and she winced.

“How are you, Miguel?” Juliette asked. “You were bleeding.”

“Nothing more than a graze wound,” Miguel declared. “I am invincible.”

“Then how’d you get shot, genius?” Daniel asked.

“Everyone got shot,” Miguel said. “Me, you, Juliette- ay Juliette, you still need to be patched up- Juliette?”

She was staring out the window, her gaze watching as men carried bodies. The door opened and Juliette looked up to see another man coming in, the butcher. Juliette frowned.

“Juliette,” Miguel called sharply.

Juliette looked over at him.

“Come sit down,” Miguel said.

Juliette walked over and sat down on the bench beside Miguel. Her gaze flickered across the room again, studying each wound. She grimaced.

“This is what happened in Strawberry?” Juliette asked.

Miguel and Daniel exchanged a look.

“Worse,” Daniel said. “Twice as many dead, killed by two people. Morgan and Bell.”

Juliette considered this, letting the information sink in. She had known what they had meant when they had told her, but it was different to see it in person. Juliette was not new to death, but she had certainly not seen this many people die this quickly. The worst she’d seen was a fire… even then she hadn’t seen the people die.

The doctor came over after a few minutes to check on them. He tended to Juliette’s wound and looked over Daniel again. He left once he was satisfied, instructing them to wait a few more minutes before leaving. Juliette stared at the floor after he left. Time slowly crawled on, but Juliette was unaware to it. She felt frozen.

The door swung open, squealing as it did.

Juliette looked up as the sheriff walked in.

“Howdy folks,” the sheriff said. “Sorry to bother y’all… just tryin’ to get more information. We got some names of the outlaws that shot up our town. Lookin’ for anymore we can get, want to get those bounty posters up to keep ‘em out next time.”

Miguel’s gaze travelled to Juliette and Juliette hesitated. He knew. He watched her for a moment, his frown slowly growing. Daniel looked over at Juliette, evaluating her.

No one said anything.

“What about you, ma’am?” the sheriff asked, looking at Juliette.

“I do not know,” Juliette lied instinctively. “I am sorry I cannot help more.”

Miguel watched her closely but did not say anything.

“Don’t worry about it,” the sheriff said. “I’ll leave y’all to it. I’m goin’ ta start sendin’ folks over to get patched up.”

“Alright,” the doctor agreed. “We will handle it.”

A few minutes later, more people came in. The doctor instructed everyone where to sit, ushering out those he had taken care of already. Juliette, Miguel, and Daniel were among the group being sent out. As Juliette reached for the door, the doctor spoke.

“Help me, would you?”

Juliette looked around to see who he was talking to. He looked up at her, frustration flickering in his eyes.

“Alright,” Juliette said. 

It was the least she could do, she had threatened to shoot the man earlier. 

“Put pressure on this while I get more supplies,” the doctor said.

Juliette nodded and took over. The man the doctor had been helping had a gunshot wound similar to Daniel’s, but his was further up. It seemed to be in a worse spot, it was too close to the rib cage to be minor.

“Probably should have stayed inside,” the man said, his voice gruff. “Had to be a man and try and defend the town show off to-“

He winced and growled out a swear as more blood poured from his wound. Juliette quickly applied more pressure and the bleeding subsided some. Blood was peeking through the fabric, already soaking it.

“You will be alright,” Juliette said.

“I am filled with lead, ma’am,” he said. “This doctor ain’t a miracle worker.”

“No, but you are still talking,” Juliette said. “That is a good sign.”

He chuckled.

“Can’t argue with that logic, can I Miriam?”

“He’s gotten kicked by a damned horse and recovered,” a scratchy voice, Miriam, said. “He’ll be fine.”

The doctor returned after a moment and set to work. He instructed Juliette on what to do, having her help him. After the man was patched up, a woman came over with a gunshot to her leg. The doctor told her how to care for it as he tended to Miriam. Slowly Juliette fell into a rhythm. It was not a job she would want to ever do again, but… right then she did not have a choice.

She counted six people that needed to be helped still. As each of them walked in, she knew they were only civilians. Eventually, the mercenaries that had been shooting at Arthur and his gang came in. Juliette left as they did, unwilling to help them. The doctor let her leave without calling her back.

As she walked out of the office her gaze immediately landed on the wagon in the center of town, where the bodies were being piled onto. She stared at it, unable to look away.

Ten. There were ten bodies.

“Señorita,” Miguel called.

She looked over to see him outside of the saloon, smoking a cigarette. He blew out a puff of smoke, before tossing it on the ground and crushing it under his boot. He nodded his head back towards the saloon.

He walked inside.

Juliette stared at the wagon, watching as two men carried out another body, one of the mercenaries. That is what she assumed they were, at least. They were not bounty hunters and they were not civilians. She had no idea who they were.

Juliette sighed and walked over to the saloon. Her gaze flickered across it, and the man she had helped earlier nodded at her before turning back to his poker game. She spotted Miguel sitting at a table with Daniel. Miguel waved her over and Juliette walked to them. She collapsed into the chair across from him. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

“Have a drink,” Miguel said.

He slid the extra glass he had to her and Juliette accepted it. She took a drink from it, unaware to what it was. The alcohol burned at her throat. The predominant taste of it was smoke, with only an underlying sweetness.

“You saw him,” Miguel said bluntly.

Juliette did not say anything, but she did not need to.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. She looked up at him, steeling herself. She was careful to keep her tone flat and clean of inflection as she continued. “What will you do?”

She waited for his answer, fear clawing at her. Miguel was a bounty hunter and Arthur… had just put a large price on his head. She knew she should not be defending him after what happened, she could not ask Miguel to leave him… but she wanted to. She wanted to beg him to go after another one, anyone else.

When had she gotten so attached to him?

He had just helped shoot up a town and here she was, worried about him. She should be worried about Miguel and Daniel, about the town, but she was worried about _him. _He was an outlaw! He had just killed several people, mercenaries, and… others. People that were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Nothin’.”

Juliette looked up at him in surprise.

“He wasn’t the one that shot Daniel,” Miguel clarified. “If he had… I might not be this generous.”

Juliette nodded slowly.

“They already know he was involved,” Daniel said. “They got almost all their faces plastered up now.”

Juliette looked up at him, guilt striking through her.

“I am sorry, Daniel,” Juliette said.

“Don’t be,” Daniel scoffed. “Ain’t your fault it happened.”

Juliette stared at the table for a moment, before taking another drink. It burned less.

She could not help but feel as if she aided in this. All she had done was withhold information from the sheriff, but she could feel the blood on her hands. She had let this happen. She had ignored the bounty on Arthur’s head, tricked herself into believing he only killed in defense… now there was no more pretending.

He was an outlaw. 

They sat in silence for a moment. The saloon was already deathly quiet. Low murmurs resonated from the game of poker, but even that was solemn and quiet. It felt as if they were at funeral, mourning their loss.

“What are you going to do about your outlaw?” Miguel asked darkly.

“I do not know,” Juliette sighed. “What happened?”

“Remember that train they robbed?” Daniel asked.

Juliette nodded slowly. She remembered the newspaper article on it. She was pretty sure she still had it.

“Apparently the guy they robbed didn’t take very kindly to it,” Daniel said lowly. “Tracked them down here, funded the Pinkertons to come down and shoot at ‘em.”

“What a mess,” Juliette murmured.

“It is,” Miguel agreed.

He was watching closely, studying her reaction. She looked over at him, meeting his gaze. He shook his head and took a long drink from his beer.

Juliette looked down at the table, her eyes becoming unfocused.

How had Arthur’s eyes looked so different?

When she had seen the bounty poster, she had thought they had drawn him wrong… now she knew they were right. He was a killer.

“Tell me, Juliette, is he worth dying for?” Miguel asked, his voice husky and low.

Juliette stared at the amber liquid in her glass. She sighed, brushing a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. She listened to the low murmur of shuffling from the other table as their card game continued.

“You know who he is now,” Daniel said. “This ain’t a new thing. Don’t know what he said to you, but this is who he is. Shot up Blackwater, Strawberry, now Valentine. Ain’t been a town they’ve been through that hasn’t had this fate.”

She did not know what to believe anymore. Just hours ago, she would have sworn Arthur would not kill a town on command, but now… she had seen the truth.

He had killed half of Valentine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter actually wasn't in my original version of this fanfic. Originally the first "major" event was Arthur being beat up by the O'Driscolls in chapter three but like that's sort late? And I really like it this way instead. I like the drama and the tension this would create bc I really just don't like the idea of someone being with Arthur and not knowing who he is bc... I love him to death, but he is an outlaw at this point and he is just shooting whoever Dutch says. He gets better throughout the game if you go high honor (which i love) but still there is a defined turning point. Which cough cough starts earlier in this AU for obvious reasons 
> 
> This is also where the split would begin between high honor/low honor Arthur. I'm only writing high honor Arthur (for now I might make another fic with scenes with major changes between high/low honor if anyone's interested) in that like Daniel would list off more of the recent things Arthur has done (the player would do more to say, like killing people for the hell of it) and that would greatly affect the ending of this chapter and the next 
> 
> I have another AU (surprise surprise) of this fic as a mix between it and my other fic where the earlier stuff with Juliette/Arthur happens just a few years before and how that changes things bc... i can't stop myself c": so let me know if you're interested in that
> 
> if you read all of my nonsense rambling thank you!! it means a lot <3 I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	11. A Strange Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 11: arthur's mortal fear of being known   
poor cowboy thinks he's hard to figure out but everyone that's close to him knows something's up

Arthur paced around the outskirts of the camp, his gaze hunting around it. He knew it was impossible for her to be this close, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking.

She had been there. She had been in Valentine.

A fresh wave of anger crawled through him at the thought. He rarely ever questioned Dutch, but after what happened he found himself wondering why the hell they hadn’t just run. He knew he couldn’t blame Dutch for what happened, but goddammit he wanted to. They could have left Valentine, they’d killed the Pinkertons holding John and Strauss. They had the opportunity, but Dutch pointed them the other way. Like the idiot he was, Arthur had blindly followed. Strauss had spoken up instead. He was one of a hell of a coward, but he was right. They coulda just left. 

He couldn’t shake Juliette from his thoughts. She clung to him like a burr, digging in deeper when he tried to focus on anything else. The look in her eyes haunted him. He’d seen horror in other’s eyes, he’d seen disbelief, and grief, but this was something entirely different. He could ignore it from everyone else, he could push through it, he’d gotten far too used to pushing on… but from her? That struck him harder than any bullet ever could. It had frozen him in his damned tracks, made him forget entirely where he was.

For a moment then, he’d wanted to go to her. Protect her from what was threatening her, but Dutch’s words had brought him back to reality. Reminded him _he _was the threat, nothin’ else. 

He kept running through everything that had happened, their every step, every bullet. Had she been shot? He didn’t know. He didn’t even think to look in the moment, his eyes had been locked onto hers. Now he was cursing himself for not looking, he should have. For all he knew, she could be bleeding out right then.

Arthur took a step towards the horses at that thought, his pulse quickening as panic seized him once more.

“Arthur,” Hosea called.

Arthur glanced over at him, before letting his gaze slide back to search for her. This was as far as he could go. The camp needed him around, he couldn’t run. Christ, he wanted to.

had the chance to turn back and find her, after Dutch and John escaped, but… well he reckoned he would’ve gotten himself killed. He still thought about it, let the possibility of him surviving creep into his mind. It was impossible and a thought he tried to banish, but just couldn’t. If he’d gone to her, he could’ve made sure she was alright at the very least.

Instead he’d ran.

“Arthur,” Hosea repeated, his voice rising.

Arthur tore his gaze away and back to Hosea. Hosea frowned at him; his eyebrows furrowed together in frustration. It was the look he’d given Sean and Bill a hundred times; one Arthur hadn’t gotten since he was a boy. Despite this look, Arthur couldn’t stop himself from looking out one final time, before retreating to Hosea.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“We are trying to get out of here in a hurry, we could use your help,” Hosea said pointedly. “Miss Grimshaw was calling for you.”

“She was?” Arthur asked uncertainly.

He hadn’t heard her. He hadn’t been able to focus since he’d returned to camp. He felt as if something had burrowed deep in his chest and kept clawing at him, making it downright impossible to focus on anything.

“What’s going on with you?” Hosea asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Alright?” Arthur repeated lowly. “Nothin’s alright no more, Hosea.”

“I know,” Hosea sighed. “Believe me, I know. This… I told Dutch that train robbery was a mistake.”

“We should’ve left Valentine the moment the Pinkertons got wise,” Arthur grumbled.

“I know,” Hosea said. “But that’s in the past now, Arthur. We need to get out of here, quick, before they find us.”

“I know,” Arthur said.

Hosea studied Arthur closely and Arthur stared back, trying to keep his expression clear. Hosea could read him better than anyone and this wasn’t something Arthur was ready to discuss with anyone. He didn’t rightfully understand it himself. Last time he talked with Mary Beth about it, he’d left more confused. She read too many romance novels and that simply wasn’t how reality worked. It was a whole lot messier and… he wasn’t exactly the protagonist type. He was the bad guy in those stories

“What happened?” Hosea asked.

Arthur looked back at him uncertainly.

“Just like Dutch said,” Arthur said. “Except we coulda just left, we had the chance.”

“Why didn’t you?” Hosea asked, frowning thoughtfully.

“Well… I don’t… I don’t know,” Arthur sighed. “It was Strauss that pointed it out, I ain’t exactly keen on him still. ‘N Dutch, y’know how he is… said we don’t run.”

“What are we doing now, Arthur?”

“Runnin’.”

As much as Dutch liked to pretend they weren’t, it’s what they were doin’. Not that he could blame him any, they didn’t have much a choice no more. Seemed like they were runnin’ out of land to run to. They’d been chased out of the west, now they were being pushed south. Pretty soon there’d only be water to go to and John couldn’t swim.

Arthur knew Dutch had a plan of some kind, he shouldn’t doubt him, but right then it sure as hell felt like he didn’t have a damned clue.

None of them did.

“What’s going on with you, Arthur?” Hosea asked. “You seem distracted.”

“Sorry,” Arthur muttered gruffly. “Out of sorts.”

“How’s that?” Hosea asked. “You don’t seem sick.”

“I ain’t,” Arthur agreed. “Just… got this strange feeling, is all. Don’t really understand it.”

“What sort of feeling?” Hosea asked.

“I don’t know, Hosea,” Arthur said irritably. “I ain’t used to…”

“Feelings?” Hosea mused.

Arthur looked over at Hosea to see him smiling gently. Arthur chuckled softly, letting the tension in his shoulders fall.

“Guess not.”

“We really did a number on you two, didn’t we?” Hosea asked.

Arthur looked over at Hosea curiously.

“You and John,” Hosea explained. “You two were just kids… made you both goddamn killers.”

“Better ‘n bein’ dead, ain’t it?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Hosea said tiredly.

It didn’t take them too long to get the camp packed up. They were used to it by now, they all had a routine. Miss Grimshaw kept everyone at work, snapped at anyone that took a moment to themselves. It made Arthur realize she had to have said something to him, he truly was out of it.

Hosea didn’t ask him anymore questions, something he was mighty grateful for. He didn’t know how to even rationalize what he was thinking. Crazy thoughts coursed through him, making him feel awfully flighty, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Any chance he got, he was back at the edge of camp, pacing.

His anger had dissipated some and left him feeling empty. He needed something to do, something to distract him and keep him from leaving. He knew if he had the chance, he’d leave.

Arthur forced himself to head back towards the center of camp, trying to keep himself calm. As he approached the camp, he heard voices arguing from Dutch’s tent. He walked towards it to see Dutch and Hosea talking.

“So… we keep heading east? Is that the plan?” Hosea demanded.

“For now,” Dutch answered lowly.

“And when do we stop, when we reach Paris?!” Hosea shouted.

Arthur glanced around to see Abigail and Mary Beth both staring at the tent uneasily. Didn’t look good to have the leaders arguing, made folks nervous. Arthur approached the tent slowly, uncertain what he was getting himself into.

“Oh, that’d be nice, join the Commune?” Dutch asked, a strange humor in his voice.

Arthur frowned, a wave of anger crashing over him. What about this was funny to him? “We stop when we find someplace sensible,” Dutch continued. “Shake them that’s following us and lie low.”

“Lie low,” Arthur scoffed.

Dutch looked up at him with a frown, his forehead creasing in irritation.

“What?” Dutch asked sharply.

“He’s right, this is lying low?” Hosea asked. “We’ve turned into a bunch of killers, I mean it.”

“We’re surviving-“ Dutch began heatedly.

“That’s part of the issue, isn’t it? We ain’t even got the delusion of being anything but a bunch of killers! We ain’t animals, Dutch.”

“We don’t have a choice, Hosea,” Dutch said firmly. “This’ll end soon.”

Hosea stood up from his chair and glared at Dutch.

“Damn right it will,” Hosea snapped.

He marched out of the tent and muttered under his breath, “We’ll all end up buried at this rate.”

“Constipated as usual,” Dutch called after him, but Hosea ignored him.

“That’s it then?” Arthur asked. “We’re just movin’?”

“Yeah,” Dutch said.

He turned to look at a map he had laid out on a crate. Arthur walked over to examine it.

“Micah told me of a place we can lie low,” Dutch said.

Micah. Arthur wasn’t sure he trusted anything Micah said.

Dutch seemed to notice Arthur’s scowl as his own frown deepened.

“Got anywhere better to go?” Dutch demanded.

Arthur didn’t say anything.

“Dewberry Creek,” Dutch said as he pointed out a location south of where they currently were. It wasn’t far off from Rhodes, within riding distance.

“Okay,” Arthur said with a heavy breath.

“Maybe you and Charles can go take a look, clear off anyone you find,” Dutch said. “Before the whole lot of us move in, looking so conspicuous.”

“And how we gonna do that?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know,” Dutch snapped. “Start dancing?”

“Looks like I’ve turned into the goddamn errand boy,” Arthur said as he stalked off.

“You have turned into my son,” Dutch said pointedly. “You worry, because I worry.”

Arthur glared back at Dutch, his irritation rising. His worry was caused by Dutch, but it wasn’t because Dutch was worried. Without Dutch’s brilliant plan of shooting up Valentine, Juliette would’ve been safe. He wouldn’t have to worry about her bleeding out or dyin’ from infection-

“We are just the same,” Dutch called after him, cutting through Arthur’s thoughts.

It took all of Arthur’s willpower to not turn around and argue with Dutch. He knew it was better he kept quiet while the gang was moving, he didn’t need to scare folks anymore than they already were. He just needed to make sure they were safe.

Arthur continued on towards the horses and glanced around. He spotted Charles sitting not far away, sharpening his knife. 

“Charles, come with me. We got work to do,” Arthur said. 

“Now where have I heard that before?” Charles asked with a shake of his head.

“We’re Dutch’s favorite errand boys now,” Arthur grumbled.

Arthur walked towards Whiskey and mounted him. He waited for Charles to reach Taima before leading the way out of camp, heading towards the creek.

“So, where we going?” Charles asked as they reached the edge of camp.

“Find a new spot to camp,” Arthur explained. “We’re packing up and moving on.”

“Again?” Charles asked incredulously.

As much as Arthur agreed with him, his job wasn’t to question Dutch’s motives to the others. He wasn’t about to start up a mutiny or anything of the sort, he needed to keep the camp calm.

“We have to. And fast,” Arthur said tiredly. “We’d already pushed our luck too far before that mess we just made in Valentine.”

“I heard. That didn’t sound good,” Charles said.

Arthur stared ahead for a moment, a sharp pain pulsing through him.

“It ain’t. Killed a lot of the law. Killed a lot of Cornwall’s men… killed a lot of townsfolk, I reckon,” Arthur said. He sighed. “They must know where we are by now. Ain’t got much time to clear out.”

“So we’re heading south?”

Arthur didn’t like it any more than Charles did. Heading east was already bad enough, but south? The south wasn’t a place Arthur was keen on visiting, but they didn’t have much choice. Arthur was half tempted to go back north where there were less people. Might freeze, but at least it was isolated.

“Yeah,” Arthur answered. “Area called Dewberry Creek.”

They slowed as they headed across the railroad tracks, a cart was passing by. Once it was past, Arthur sped Whiskey up. He wanted to get this over with, find the place, get the camp settled, then… he didn’t know what happened next. He wanted to find Juliette, but he wasn’t sure that was a smart plan. After what he’d done… he wasn’t sure she could forgive him.

Arthur sighed heavily, begging for something to distract him. As if he could hear Arthur’s silent pleas, Charles spoke.

“I’ve only known Dutch a few months, but… the way he talks, I never thought I’d see him wanting to head south,” Charles said.

“Right…” Arthur agreed. Dutch, that was somethin’ he could focus on. “And I know by now, there ain’t no lyin’ low,” Arthur said. “Dutch ain’t about to hide out ‘n a cave. That’d be admitting we’re nothing more than low-down criminals.”

“Which we are,” Charles stated.

That was true. For a while, Arthur convinced himself they were something more. They’d been a sort of Robin Hood for a while, but after everything had gone to shit they’d stopped helping anyone but themselves. Valentine was plenty proof of that.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Arthur said gruffly.

“So where does it end?” Charles asked, uncertainty hanging in his voice.

“Where does what end?”

He glanced back at Charles and Charles brought Taima to fall into place beside Whiskey.

“The moving, the running,” Charles explained.

He gestured out towards where they were going before shaking his head.

“We’re running out of land, Arthur,” Charles said.

“I know,” Arthur said. “I know… Dutch don’t see it as running.”

“Call it what you want,” Charles muttered.

They continued to talk along the way to Dewberry Creek, a welcome distraction for Arthur. Talking with Charles kept his mind busy and focused on the problem at hand. The Pinkertons were following them, Cornwall’s money backed them, and they had to move.

That was it.

He wanted it to be that easy, to be able to banish her to the back of his mind, but she still crept through. He would see her standing in the distance and he’d stare for a moment, until Charles got his attention again.

Arthur couldn’t understand why this was so hard. He’d been through a lot, suffered plenty, he thought he knew how to cope. How to move on. But this… it hurt like an open wound. Ached deep in his soul, a feeling he hadn’t experienced for a long while.

As they reached the creek, it was clear it was far from the ideal spot. It was mostly dried up but Arthur had the feeling it’d a nightmare in the rain. It was open and hard to defend. Anyone could ride on down and peer into their camp. They’d practically be inviting the Pinkertons to get them. Arthur knew Micah was dumb, but this was a new level of stupid.

Despite this, they still went down to the creek to investigate. It was the best place they had at the moment; it didn’t have to be permanent. They split up to cover more ground, but it didn’t take long for Arthur to get distracted. He found his gaze searching the area around them for Juliette. He guided Whiskey towards the bank of the creek, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he searched the horizon. 

“Arthur?” Charles called.

Arthur scanned the area. How long had it been since Valentine? Hadn’t been all that long, the sun was still far from the horizon. He doubted Juliette had gone this far already, not with… everything that had happened.

“Arthur,” Charles called again.

“Yeah?” Arthur asked, finally turning his attention back to Charles.

“I see something, over there,” Charles said.

Arthur looked over to see Charles indicating what looked like a body on the ground. Arthur turned Whiskey towards it and guided him forward.

“You see it? Someone on the ground there,” Charles said.

“Yeah,” Arthur said.

He approached it and Charles directed Taima to meet them. Birds flew up from the body as they got close, their massive wings creating a storm of dust and feathers. Arthur watched them with a frown, before looking back at the body. He dismounted Whiskey as they got close and walked over to examine it. It was a man wearing what had been a nice blue coat and dress shirt. Blood stained his shirt, a dark near black color. The blood seemed centered in his chest, where Arthur could see a hole torn through.

“He’s been shot,” Arthur said with a frown.

Charles walked over beside him and studied the body.

“Looks like trouble got here before us,” Arthur commented.

He looked around for any sign of the man’s attackers, but they seemed to be long gone. He looked back to see Charles knelt down by the body.

“Hmm… look, there’s a camp just up ahead,” Charles said.

Arthur followed his gaze to where the creek dipped into what had been a stream. He could see a wagon peeking out of the side and a tent.

“Sure. Let’s get ready for business,” Arthur said.

He walked back to Whiskey and pulled his own rifle from the saddle. He checked the ammo in it.

“Any issues… shoot first, debate second,” Arthur said as he held his rifle.

Charles frowned at him.

“I’m not gonna shot for the sake of it,” Charles said lowly.

“Survival’s for the sake of it,” Arthur said pointedly. Charles gave him a look and Arthur’s frown deepened. “Quit talkin’, we got work to do.”

“You started it,” Charles returned irritably.

They started towards the camp and Arthur could feel his anger rise. Charles wasn’t wrong… that was the worst part. Arthur didn’t like his own words anymore. He was starting to sound a lot like Dutch had in Valentine. A while ago, Arthur would’ve been proud to be compared to Dutch… now he wasn’t so sure. That call in Valentine… it wasn’t one Arthur ever wanted to make. Killin’ folk… for no good reason… that was what they were supposed to be avoiding.

Arthur shook his head as they approached the camp, trying to gather his focus. He held his rifle close, but kept his finger from the trigger. As they got closer, Arthur examined the camp along the bank. It was a bunch tents and a few wagons but seemed vacant for the moment.

“Looks abandoned,” Charles said.

“Let’s make sure of that,” Arthur said.

As they got closer, Arthur nodded his head towards the tent and they readied their guns. Arthur pointed his rifle into it as they passed, but saw nothing. There was a cot, but no one hiding under it. It looked like somethin’ awful had happened, there were objects strewn about everywhere. A chair laid in the middle on its side, having been left in a hurry. Arthur kicked it out of the way and let his gaze slide across the camp. It seemed like whoever owned this camp had tried to leave in a hurry. Didn’t seem like it went well. A camp fire sat between the two tents, with a bucket on its side by it. Looked like someone had tired and failed to put it out, embers still smoked under the firewood.

“Where is everyone?” Charles asked uneasily.

“Maybe they heard us comin’,” Arthur said. “Be careful.”

“I am being careful,” Charles said.

Arthur looked back at Charles, his eyes narrowed. Charles was busy investigating a pile of crates, making sure no one was behind it. Charles usually didn’t talk back this much. He wasn’t quiet, but Arthur and him had mostly been on the same page.

Arthur shook his head and decided it was a matter for another day. He’d already ruined one relationship, maybe he’d taken out another. Wouldn’t blame Charles any for losing respect for him after Valentine, but he still had to listen. When it came down to it, they had orders… that was exactly _how _Valentine happened. He’d had orders.

Arthur grimaced and turned his attention back to the camp, walking towards the second tent. Charles was already in it, his gaze narrowed in concentration.

“Someone’s been here,” Charles said.

“Sure,” Arthur agreed.

Arthur didn’t consider himself very bright, but he didn’t need Charles to tell him someone had been in the camp. It was obvious someone had been here, hell the fire was still smoking.

“Someone’s _still _here,” Charles continued.

Arthur looked back at Charles with a raised eyebrow. Charles nodded his head towards the ground where several footprints were still imprinted in the mud. There were some the same size as his and Charles’s, but there were smaller and more slight ones as well. A woman and kids, probably. Arthur felt a chill travel across his skin.

“There ain’t no one here now,” Arthur reasoned, his gaze flicking across the camp again.

“I ain’t so sure about that,” Charles said as he approached one of the wagons by the tent.

The wagon had several crates and barrels stacked around it, making it hard to see under it. Arthur hadn’t thought anything of it until Charles began to shift the crates around. Arthur moved to help him, taking a part the carefully constructed structure. He picked up the final crate and instantly noticed the shotgun pointing at him.

Instantly Arthur dropped the crate and his hand moved to his rifle before he realized it was a just a woman. Muffled cries sounded and Arthur spotted two young kids hiding with her, both cowering in fright. Charles shot Arthur a look and Arthur swallowed. He nearly just shot a woman for no good reason.

He held his hands up, sliding his rifle across his back. Charles followed his lead, holstering his own pistol.

“It’s okay,” Charles said gently. “It’s okay, you can come out of there.”

Neither the mother nor the children moved, but Arthur figured that much. Two outlaws had just stumbled upon their camp and pointed guns at them. She should’ve shot them.

“You okay?” Charles asked them.

The woman pointed the gun at Charles, but Charles merely held his hands up.

“We mean you no harm,” Charles said.

Arthur watched the standoff, uncertain how this would end. The woman moved suddenly, and Arthur’s instinct remained the same, he reached his pistol. He managed to stop himself before his hand gone too far and held his hands up higher. The woman didn’t seem to have noticed his lapse of judgement and instead pushed one of the crates out of the way to crawl out from under the wagon. Her children followed her closely, standing behind her.

The woman kept her shotgun pointed at Arthur and Charles as she moved away from the wagon, her back facing the creek. The young boy and girl both stared at Arthur with wide eyes.

“He said a-are you okay?” Arthur repeated, trying his best to seem as unthreatening as he could.

There wasn’t much he could do, it was obvious he wasn’t a good man. He kept his hands up and tried to keep his tone reassuring, but he found himself struggling to do even that. Charles was better at this; he’d sounded a lot nicer than Arthur did.

The woman spoke and said something Arthur couldn’t comprehend. It was some sort of foreign language, but he had no clue what. It wasn’t French, he knew that much.

“G-german?” The woman asked, fear shining in her voice.

Arthur looked to Charles, before looking back to the woman.

“No,” Arthur answered. “Now… go on, get out of here,” Arthur said. He waved his hand towards them, trying indicate for them to leave. They didn’t move. “Go, we need the land.”

The woman moved back, but not far.

“Get the hell outta here,” Arthur said, his voice rising.

“Th-they took our father!” The girl exclaimed in a heavy accent.

Arthur looked down at her with a frown.

“Who did?” Charles asked.

Arthur grimaced and looked away from them for a moment. This was supposed to be quick and easy; they were just supposed to get the land clear, that was it. Then they’d go back to Dutch and the gang would settle and Arthur… he could try and make things right.

“M-men,” The girl said. She sounded on the verge of tears. “Last night.”

“Where? Where did they take him?” Charles asked seriously.

“Ain’t no business of ours,” Arthur groaned. “I don’t even speak their language.”

Charles turned on Arthur angrily.

“You ain’t as tough and dense as all that,” Charles snapped as he pointed a finger at Arthur.

He started towards the horses and Arthur watched him with dismay.

Sure, Arthur had sympathy for the family, but they had other business to take care of. People to protect, people that relied on them. They didn’t have time to waste helping out folks, they had their own to take care of first.

Arthur looked back at the family and saw the kids’ eyes on him again, their gazes glistening with tears. He sighed. Charles was right, they couldn’t just leave them for dead.

Charles mounted Taima and Arthur mounted Whiskey.

“The girl was pointing this way, let’s see if we can pick up a trail,” Charles said.

He led the way out of the bank and Arthur moved Whiskey to follow. Whiskey instantly fell into a trot behind Taima, following her without much guidance.

“Look here, tracks,” Charles said.

Arthur didn’t even look down, but instead let his gaze travel across the land again. Anger crept up through him again and this time he couldn’t rightfully explain it. He was angry at Charles for making them help and angry at himself that he wanted to move on. The more time they wasted… the possibility of Juliette dying rose. He knew it was unlikely, last he’d seen her she could walk, but fear was a crazy thing. Somehow he couldn’t shake the idea of her bleeding out somewhere, waiting for him.

“I don’t see nothin’,” Arthur lied.

“Hoof marks, there,” Charles snapped.

Arthur glanced back at Charles and saw where he was indicating. Arthur saw them, as much as he didn’t want to.

“Come on,” Charles said as he brought Taima to a gallop.

Whiskey followed on, keeping close to them.

“What’s going on with you?” Charles asked.

“What’d you mean?” Arthur asked irritably.

He was tired of people asking that question. He didn’t have an answer for them. He was just angry at everything right then. Angry at Dutch for sending them off, angry at the family for needing their help, angry at Charles for making them help, and most of all… angry at himself.

“You were just gonna send that woman and her children on their way?” Charles demanded.

“We’re wanted men,” Arthur replied coldly. “We got Pinkertons breathing down our necks. We should be moving camp, not running off on some wild goose chase.”

“Come on, Arthur,” Charles said. “That’s not how you are.”

Arthur glared at Charles’s back. How the hell did he know that? He’d only been around a few months, he didn’t know who Arthur was, not really. He couldn’t be disappointed in Arthur for seeing something that wasn’t there, Arthur wasn’t a good man. He hadn’t ever been one, not really. Maybe he pretended, but he always showed his true colors. He was an outlaw.

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Arthur growled lowly.

Charles glanced back at him, but Arthur wouldn’t meet his gaze. Instead he looked around. He was glad Juliette wasn’t around then, he was feeling at his worst. He could feel the blood on his hands, the weight of his sins on his shoulders.

He hardly noticed as Charles slowed to examine the tracks.

“This way,” Charles said distantly.

Whiskey followed after Taima, never letting her get far ahead. Charles looked back at Arthur again and this time Arthur noticed. He looked up at Charles and Charles looked forward.

“You alive back there?” Charles asked.

“Unfortunately,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

As they continued to ride, Arthur felt his anger settle some. Eventually Charles spoke again, asking about the Pinkertons. Arthur replied and was surprised to hear his tone was back to normal, he sounded like himself again. Charles seemed to notice as well but didn’t mention it. They continued to talk and surprisingly things stayed civil.

Arthur couldn’t blame Charles none for all of this. It wasn’t his fault; he didn’t do any of this. He was just trying to do what was right… something Arthur couldn’t rightfully fault him for.

Silence creeped up on them again, taking hold. Arthur sighed heavily. He really had forgotten who he was. He’d thought he knew, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“John said he was going back to the auction yard to collect the money for those sheep,” Charles commented.

Arthur’s gaze snapped back to Charles and he frowned.

“He’d be a damn idiot going anywhere near that town right now,” Arthur said.

His anger returned full force. ‘Course John was going back to Valentine. ‘Course he wasn’t the one out scoutin’ for a new camp, Arthur was. Dutch had to send Arthur off, but let John run right back to Valentine. There was plenty of work to be done in camp, they should be focused on packing up. Arthur had put aside everything for the gang and where was John? Running off to get the damned money.

“He reckoned he’d be able to slip ‘n and out,” Charles said, unaware to Arthur’s frustration.

“Oh, well… if it’s John’s idea, it must be a good one,” Arthur said scathingly.

“What is it with you and him?” Charles asked in disbelief.

Arthur let out a frustrated huff. He understood why Charles was asking, he hadn’t been around when everything had happened, but it wasn’t exactly a wound Arthur was willing to reopen. Yet somehow Arthur found himself talking, trying to explain why it still bothered him that John had left. He’d been back for years now, but Arthur wasn’t ready to let it go. He’d run off on his family, on Abigail, Jack, Dutch, Hosea, the whole lot of them. Turned his back and didn’t think twice. He’d had the chance to be there for Jack, but he’d run off.

If Arthur was honest, he knew why he was so angry at John. It wasn’t something he was willing to voice, not to anyone. Arthur had made the same mistake as John, years ago, but he wasn’t as lucky. Didn’t have someone looking out for him, protecting his family while he was away. When John waltzed back, everything was fine. He never felt that loss that never quite left. Never had the guilt that settled deep into your bones.

Arthur would never wish it upon anyone, but… he fucking hated that John didn’t get it. Didn’t understand just lucky he was for Jack to be alive. For Abigail to be _waiting _for him still, to love him still. After all the horrible things he’d done, Abigail was there, _Jack _was there. Hell, even Arthur was there. He had to be, as much as he hated John right then, he’d never turn his back on him. Never run away when John needed him.

John had left him.

Silence settled over them again, the weight of it crushing Arthur. He’d made a hell of a lot of mistakes in his life and he was feeling them all. He wanted to do better, he knew he did, but he wasn’t sure if he could. Every step he took seemed to be wrong.

He was starting to wonder if it would’ve been better if he’d continued down the path all those weeks ago, if he’d pretended Fleur wasn’t there. The thought was fleeting, as bad as he’d messed up, a horrible part of him was glad he’d made that mistake. As brief as their time had been together, he’d enjoyed it.

“Camp up ahead,” Charles said suddenly.

Arthur looked up and spotted the trail of smoke snaking through the sky.

“Be careful,” Charles advised.

Charles’s gaze slid back to him and Arthur nodded, well aware Charles had let him get lost in his own thoughts. This was why he’d gotten the damned journal, to keep his mind clear, but it hadn’t worked this time.

“Seems deserted,” Charles said as they drew closer to the camp.

“Let’s take a look then,” Arthur said.

The camp itself was rather small, only two tents with a campfire and some crates. There was a wagon off to the side and a small table. Looked like a camp for only a couple of people, if they were lucky only two or three but Arthur would wager there were more.

The camp was in a good spot, a nice open area with some trees scattered about. It was backed against a river, making it easier to defend. Lucky for them, it didn’t seem like anyone was home.

“So where is this guy?” Arthur asked as they stopped the horses short of the camp.

Arthur dismounted Whiskey and wandered into the camp.

“I don’t know… but you know something?” Charles began. Arthur glanced over at him as he continued. “This is a better camp spot than back there. Much easier to defend.”

“You’re not wrong,” Arthur agreed. “Hell of a lot better than a ditch-“

Arthur looked up as he saw a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. His hand settled on his pistol, but he realized there was a man tied up not far from the river’s edge. He was squirming about on the ground, looking mighty pathetic.

“This looks like our feller, Charles,” Arthur said as he walked over to the man.

“Quick, cut him free and let’s get outta here,” Charles said.

Arthur kneeled down to cut the ropes as Charles kept guard. He cut the gag tied around the man’s mouth first. The man instantly spat it out and began to speak hurriedly in a foreign language.

“Not again,” Arthur groaned.

The man spoke louder in panic.

“Understand any of that?” Arthur asked Charles.

“No, but it doesn’t sound good-“ gunshots cut Charles off.

Charles and Arthur both moved for cover, Arthur found refuge behind a grouping of barrels, while Charles hid behind a pile of sacks. Arthur risked a look over the barrels to see several men approaching from the north. He counted two in total. Arthur lined up a shot with his rifle as one of the men drew closer and pulled the trigger. The man instantly collapsed. Shots rang out around him and Arthur ducked back down as he heard several bullets imbed themselves into the barrel he was hiding behind. Charles shot at their assailant before ducking for cover. As he went down, Arthur moved back up. He took several quick shots at the second man approaching them. He winged the man’s shoulder and he stumbled. He shot him again, square in the chest, and his third shot took him down.

Gunfire cracked around him still and Arthur saw three more men appearing from the tree line. Arthur grimaced and lined up another shot.

“Why the hell you drag us into this, Charles?!” Arthur shouted over the gunshots.

Charles either didn’t hear him or ignored him. Charles shot one of the men drawing closer and Arthur aimed for the man’s head. As he pulled the trigger, Charles killed one of the others moving towards them. After a few minutes of exchanging gunfire, the last of them seemed to go down.

“That all of ‘em?” Arthur asked.

“Looks like it,” Charles said.

Carefully they both left their cover, eyeing their surroundings warily. The man tied up spouted something in German.

“You get him untied and I’ll see what they’ve left behind for us,” Charles said.

“Alright,” Arthur agreed.

He walked back towards the man and looked down at him as he continued to squirm. He said something in German again, but Arthur was no closer to understanding it. Not that he cared to neither.

“Hush up, would ya?” Arthur grumbled.

He kneeled down again and pulled out his hunting knife. He cut the ropes tying the man’s hands first, then the ropes around his ankles. The man instantly clambered to his feet and brushed himself off. He said something to Arthur in German, more words he didn’t understand. His tone sounded grateful; Arthur guessed he was thanking him.

“Yeah… okay,” Arthur said uncertainly. “You wait there a second.”

Arthur turned back to Charles to see him standing not far off.

“Charles, bring this feller back to his family and I’ll go find Dutch ‘n divert the caravan here. This spot should do just fine,” Arthur said.

“Alright,” Charles agreed. “Come on now, I’ll bring you back to your family.”

Charles walked towards the German man and he said some gibberish. Arthur shook his head.

“Have fun with that,” Arthur said.

“Arthur,” Charles called as Arthur started away. Arthur stopped and looked back at Charles.

“Yeah?”

“You did good,” Charles said.

Arthur stared at him for a moment, letting his gaze slide away.

“Sure,” Arthur said.

He walked back to Whiskey and hauled himself up onto the saddle. He watched as Charles mounted Taima and gave the man a hand up. The man said something in German again.

“Good luck to ya,” Arthur said.

The man looked up at Arthur and said more gibberish. Arthur shook his head.

“Vamos now,” Arthur said.

“Arthur that’s Spanish,” Charles said with a shake of his head.

Charles chuckled and spurred Taima on. Arthur watched for a moment, before leading Whiskey back north.

“You’ve done real good,” Arthur said to Whiskey.

He patted his neck gently as they reached the main path.

“Real fine,” Arthur said.

He had done excellent, hadn’t run off at the first gunshots. Whiskey didn’t spook as easy as Arthur would figure, but he was still a thoroughbred. His previous horse had been a Ardennes, a large horse that was hard to spook. She’d been fast as hell too. Granted not as fast as Whiskey, but she got along alright. He’d been worried about getting a racehorse, he knew how easy they spooked, but Whiskey had been good so far. He wasn’t difficult to calm in danger and responded well. Only problem was how ornery he was around camp, but Arthur rather liked that too. He liked watching Kieran take care to give Whiskey a wide birth. 

As they continued down the road, Arthur continued to look around for Juliette. He was careful not to stray far off the trails, he did need to get back to the others fast enough, but anytime he saw a trail of smoke he’d wander closer to investigate. Each time he found himself disappointed.

All too quick, he’d found the gang. They were heading down the same road as he and Charles had. Dutch and Hosea led the caravan, both situated on the first wagon. It looked like they were arguing again, Dutch’s gaze was furrowed, and Hosea’s forehead was wrinkled in frustration. Somehow along this line, this became a common sight.

Arthur didn’t realize it till then, but he hadn’t been around either of them much. He’d hardly spoken to them, except in passing. He’d been busy, hadn’t spent much time in camp lately.

“Arthur,” Hosea greeted as he looked up.

Arthur dipped his head. He brought Whiskey to walk alongside the wagon as they continued down the road.

“You came back,” Dutch said with a narrowed gaze.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur asked.

“Thought you might run off on us, son,” Dutch said stingingly.

Arthur stared at Dutch in surprise, taken a back.

“You sent me off,” Arthur said.

“Been acting like you’re gonna run,” Dutch said.

“I ain’t gonna run,” Arthur scoffed. “You know that.”

Dutch looked away from him and Arthur frowned. He was serious about this? After everything that had happened, Arthur should be the least of Dutch’s worries. Arthur had always been loyal; he hadn’t been the one to run. John was the one that had left them for a year. 

“We found a better spot to set up camp,” Arthur said roughly. “Easier to defend, south of Dewberry.”

“Good job, Arthur,” Hosea said. “I don’t think any of us were excited to hide out in a creek.”

Arthur nodded.

“Near a river too, should be able to fish some,” Arthur said.

“Been a while since I’ve done any fishing,” Hosea remarked.

“Remember how?” Arthur asked. “Seemed like you’d forgotten to hunt last time we went.”

“Oh, I remember all right,” Hosea chuckled. “Sure John does too after you taught him.”

“He was teaching him to swim,” Dutch corrected.

Arthur looked back at Dutch to see his expression had softened some, he was no longer looking at Arthur like was the enemy. Dutch talked big about Arthur being his son, but lately it hadn’t felt like it. He understood times were tough and he shouldn’t judge Dutch harshly, but he was frustrated.

“Uh huh,” Arthur muttered.

Arthur searched the area around them, spotting a smoke trail not far away.

“I’ll head on back then,” Arthur said.

“Alright, Arthur,” Hosea agreed.

Arthur turned Whiskey around and followed the caravan towards the end. Once a couple of wagons had passed him, Arthur started off in the direction of the smoke trail. It was futile, he knew it. There were far too many camps for him to check them all, not to mention he could get shot looking, but somehow, he still felt compelled to check. 

It didn’t take too long for him to get close enough to the camp to realize it wasn’t her. It was a hunter. They didn’t notice Arthur, but Arthur hadn’t wandered close after realizing it wasn’t Juliette. He went back to the caravan.

This happened a few more times, he’d see a camp, or something that looked familiar, and would ride off to make sure. Each time he returned disappointed. One of the times he’d thought he’d seen Fleur in the corner of his eye, but when he looked up, he realized it was only a deer. It was pathetic and he knew it was, but each time he was hopeful.

The caravan moved slower than he and Charles had, but after a while they finally reached the clearing. Unpacking the camp gave Arthur something to focus on, he was grateful for the work. It wasn’t hard work, but it kept him busy. That’s what he needed, something to keep him busy.

Every now and then Arthur would hear Miss Grimshaw snap at someone to do work, but for the most part everyone was doing their share. Charles had started working the moment he’d returned, but he was always diligent when something needed done. By the time John returned, all of the work was done. Arthur didn’t hide his irritation in the slightest, instead he pointedly glared at John. John noticed, but hardly reacted.

Arthur ended up settling away from the rest of the camp, sitting at one of the tables while the others settled around the campfire in celebration. Distantly, a song started as Javier began to play his guitar. Others wandered around the camp, but for the most part everyone left Arthur alone. He was grateful for it; he wasn’t in the best mood.

He wanted to leave, but he knew Dutch was already nervous. He needed to stay put for the night… and besides that, he wasn’t so sure how Juliette would react to him now. He needed to know she was at least safe; he’d understand if she never wanted to see him again.

“Arthur?” Abigail asked.

Arthur looked up to see her walking over, carrying a cup of coffee.

“Awfully late for coffee, isn’t it?” Arthur asked.

Abigail shrugged tiredly.

“It’s been a long day,” Abigail said.

She settled beside Arthur. They sat in silence for a moment, long enough Arthur’s mind grew distant, his gaze unfocused.

“What’s been goin’ on with you?” Abigail asked.

He blinked and looked over at her, before his gaze slid down to the table.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Arthur said.

“I saw you earlier,” Abigail said pointedly. “Back at Horseshoe Overlook, while we were travelling, you looked like you were looking for something.”

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye out for Pinkertons,” Arthur muttered.

Abigail studied him and Arthur knew she saw through him. No one else was better at catching his bullshit.

“What happened?” Abigail asked gently.

Arthur didn’t answer her right away, but instead stared down at the table until it began to blur. He sighed heavily rubbed at his eyes.

“I messed up real bad,” Arthur finally said. 

Abigail considered this.

“Can’t be worse than Blackwater, can it?” Abigail asked.

Arthur didn’t say anything. He didn’t know about that. At least in Blackwater, he didn’t recognize anyone. No one in that town mattered to him. He realized that wasn’t exactly a good thing to be happy about, that he’d helped kill townsfolk and hardly batted an eye, but he wasn’t a good man. He was beginning to question if he’d ever been good. They’d pretended for a while, but…

“This ain’t a good life for a family,” Arthur said.

He looked over at Abigail to see her staring at her cup of coffee.

“I know,” Abigail said. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot, Arthur. You heard me talking with Hosea.”

“I did,” Arthur agreed.

Arthur hadn’t ever been against folks leaving the gang, but he’d never thought about Abigail leaving until that day. She’d been a part of the gang for so long she felt like family. The idea of her leaving struck him hard, but after hearing her say she was scared, he knew it was right. He’d certainly miss her and Jack, but… hell it felt like the Pinkertons would chase them to the ends of the Earth.

“You should consider it,” Abigail said.

Arthur looked up at her with a frown, his eyebrows scrunching together.

“Me?” Arthur scoffed. “You know as well as I do, I’m gonna die part of this gang.”

“You don’t have to, Arthur,” Abigail said. “You have put in so many years, you have the right to leave and make your own life. You’ve done plenty for this gang. I’m scared where this is going to end, Arthur. I have a son.”

She sounded strangely desperate, her voice near pleading. Arthur stared at her for a moment before realizing she wasn’t talking about him, not really. She was thinking about John, how she’d convince him to leave. Arthur’s expression softened some.

“You talk about it with ‘im?” Arthur asked as he looked up to the campfire.

John was settled beside Charles. Arthur wasn’t particularly scared of John running; he seemed a lot less scared than he had been. But Arthur didn’t know anything. Years ago, Arthur would have sworn on his life John would never just abandon them.

“Marston?” Abigail asked.

“Yeah,” Arthur answered.

“You know how he is,” Abigail murmured. “He’s an idiot… I don’t think he realizes just how bad of a position we’re in yet… I’m real scared it’s going to take something big to make him realize.”

“Don’t have to stay for him,” Arthur said. “I’ll always look out for him.”

Abigail was quiet for a moment and Arthur could see a storm of thoughts swirling in her blue eyes.

“I love him, Arthur,” Abigail finally said. “I can’t just leave him.”

Arthur felt something claw at him sharply, anger rising up in him suddenly and fiercely. His anger was an ugly beast he’d never had a good handle on. It’d gotten better with age and some of Hosea’s wisdom, but it would still rear up in him, running his vision red. Right then, he felt it course through him.

Abigail set a hand on his arm and Arthur looked back at up her. He felt his anger simmer some, but still shot an irritated glare at John. As if he could feel Arthur’s murderous gaze, John turned to look at them. He studied the pair with a scowl, before turning his back on them.

“He left you behind,” Arthur growled. “Ran like a goddamn coward.”

Arthur wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive John for that. It was a sharp blow Arthur hadn’t recovered from. John had left them all behind, acted like they were nothin’. Didn’t look back, just took off. Then when it suited him, he waltzed right back into camp. Dutch had greeted him back warmly, like he’d left for one fucking afternoon. Arthur knew if he’d left, he wouldn’t have been welcomed back as kindly.

He knew a part of the reason he was so angry at John was something John just didn’t understand. John had the chance for a family, one he could protect, and he’d run from it. He didn’t face any consequences; his son was alive and well. Arthur had been there for him, been there to protect him from his own mistakes. Arthur hadn’t ever been so lucky; he’d carried his mistakes and held them close. They were his own, he didn’t share them with anyone. Maybe if he had, John would’ve stayed. Maybe if he’d tried to talk then, he wouldn’t have had to carry his grief alone.

He couldn’t blame John for that. No matter much he wanted to, it was his mistake and his alone.

“I know… he left us. I know you haven’t forgiven him for that, and maybe I haven’t either,” Abigail began quietly. “But he’s the boy’s father. Jack deserves to have a pa, Arthur.”

He knew she was right. Jack certainly deserved it; he was a good kid.

“Arthur?” Abigail asked gently.

“Promise me you’ll get out with the boy,” Arthur said. “If things get worse, you get him out.”

“I will,” Abigail said.

Abigail studied him for a moment while Arthur stared absently at the ground, his heart unbearably heavy.

“What happened?” Abigail asked quietly.

“Nothin’ happened,” Arthur said tiredly.

He didn’t understand how he could miss Juliette this much, how scared he was. It was something he wasn’t ready to admit. Voicing it would make him face a reality he wasn’t ready for.

“Sure, seems like something did,” Abigail said. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I don’t know who I am no more, Abigail,” Arthur admitted.

“Who do you want to be?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really don't know how this ended up being so long... but here we are lol   
i had planned to have him/juliette meet back up this chapter and that fall out but uhhh that'd make this way too long   
this chapter is pretty heavy with dialogue from in game (of course with a lot of my own dialogue and a lot of in game dialogue is edited) but it was really weird to basically rewrite a mission ?? i liked it tho  
let me know what you guys think! hope everyone that has finals coming up does well!


	12. Discretion of Valor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really should be studying for finals but... here i am lol   
this is one of those chapters i've been working on for a while in between the other chapters (along with blessed be the widowmakers) bc i was just so excited for them

The next day, Arthur started looking. He’d left early in the morning and returned late at night disappointed. The next day he repeated this, and then the next. He did his best to act natural, as if he were out following up on a lead, but he knew he was being watched. He was aware how strange it was, and he knew that if he wanted to reassure folks, he’d stay in camp a while longer. But every second he spent in camp, he kept thinking about her dying somewhere.

He was beginning to give up hope by the fourth day. She knew how to hide from hi. She had to know he’d be no where near Valentine or Strawberry. If she wanted to hide, that was the place. Some part of him was beginning to wonder if he should start looking further north, but… with his bounty as high as it was, it wouldn’t be easy.

There was a possibility she’d tell him to leave, wouldn’t even entertain the idea of his company… and he couldn’t blame her for that. He just wanted to make sure she was alright, that was all.

The sun was beginning to set finally, leaving him with a decision to make. He could retreat back to camp, it’d probably take him a couple hours to get back, or he could push on. Returning to camp would just make things worse for him. He’d been irritable since Valentine, something he wasn’t particularly proud of. Most folks had learned just to leave him alone. Abigail had even told little Jack to leave him be.

“C’mon boy,” Arthur said to Whiskey. “Let’s keep goin’.”

Whiskey followed his guidance obediently. Whiskey’s endurance was impressive, he’d handled the past few days well. Arthur was careful not to wear him out, but Whiskey seemed more than happy to spend all day roaming. Arthur reckoned he was used to it; he had been wild once. 

He sighed heavily.

“D’you think she’s alright?” Arthur asked Whiskey, his voice a low murmur.

Whiskey flicked an ear in acknowledgment. Arthur let out a long breath, rubbing at his eyes.

He understood his search was pointless. The likely hood of him finding her was low and if he did, he wasn’t sure he could fix this. He’d never had to face this before, not like this. With Mary, she didn’t seem to care what he got up to on his own time, but she hadn’t ever seen him at his worst. Even his best wasn’t good enough for her.

They continued on along the road, until Arthur finally spotted an area worth investigating. There was an open area nearby that seemed like a good place to camp, he figured it was worth a look. As they crossed the clearing, he spotted smoke trailing up through the sky.

“What d’you reckon?” Arthur asked. 

They’d been shot at already for wandering to close to a camp. Arthur couldn’t really blame the man; he wouldn’t like a stranger strolling up to his camp much neither. He’d left without firing his own gun. Usually he wouldn’t save the bullets, but his gun had felt a lot heavier lately.

He followed the smoke into the woods. He slowed Whiskey down to give him more time to search past the trees for her. It got harder and harder to follow the smoke the further in he went, until eventually he was just guessing. He tried to look for tracks, but he wasn’t nearly as good as Charles. Didn’t help that there were so many.

A sharp caw sounded, and Arthur looked up to see a large crow flying overhead. As he looked back down, he saw a flicker of light through the trees. He led Whiskey over to it and as he got closer it grew clear it was a campfire. He spotted Fleur first, her cream pelt seemed almost golden from the sunset’s light. Juliette was sitting beside the campfire, her gaze seemed unfocused and her posture withdrawn. He swallowed nervously and pulled back on Whiskey’s reins for a moment. Whiskey came to a stop and Arthur took a moment to gather himself.

He’d gotten his confirmation she was alive; he could leave… but something kept him frozen in place, leaving him with only one option.

He looked over her camp, making sure neither Miguel nor Daniel were around. He wasn’t sure how Juliette would react to him, but he sure as hell didn’t want to run into the bounty hunters. He was thankful to find she was the only one. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they were around. He wouldn’t start anything, but they certainly would. He hadn’t shot them, but he’d still taken part.

The camp itself was settled towards the far edge of a cliff overlooking a prairie that became farmlands in the distance. The sun’s light spilled out over the edge of the cliff, bathing the camp in a warm glow. The edge of Juliette’s hair shined a brilliant gold, while her face was cast in shadows.

He realized with a start; he’d never been to her camp. He’d always wanted to give her that privacy, never wanted to intrude. He still didn’t want to, but… he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to find her again. It’d taken him three days already; he wasn’t sure he could do anymore.

Whiskey continued forward slowly, and Arthur braced himself. A twig broke under Whiskey’s heavy hooves and Juliette shifted. She didn’t look up fully at him, just glanced over enough to see Whiskey.

He dismounted Whiskey as they reached the edge of the tree line. He let go of Whiskey’s reins and Whiskey walked a little way before settling. He walked towards the camp slowly, feeling uncertainty crawl through him. He stopped short of the camp, the edge of his foot in the fire’s light.

Arthur stared at her for a moment, before taking off his hat. He held it in his hands, running his thumb over the brim as he tried to find his words.

“Juliette?” Arthur asked. His voice was low and uneasy.

He’d expected her to turn him away instantly, but she did not even look up at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the fire. Arthur studied her closely and saw bandages across her right forearm. They looked fresh, as if she had just tended to it. His heart fell. She’d been hurt.

Arthur had seen wounds far worse, but somehow this one affected him than it should. He knew he’d gotten lucky, but even this small wound wracked him with guilt. He doubted she’d ever been shot before. He’d been the one to cause it, not anything else.

“Are you okay?” Arthur asked.

She did not answer right away, but her eyes narrowed.

“Me?” she asked, irritation ringing in her voice. “Am _I _okay? I am alive, Arthur.”

She looked up at him, anger flashing through her eyes.

Arthur stared at her, not sure quite what that meant. She seemed to realize his confusion, and her eyes narrowed. 

“Innocent people died,” Juliette said. “Your gang killed _innocent _people.”

He was already at a loss for words. He couldn’t deny that, he was sure people had ended up in the crossfire. Nothing he could do it about, it was just how things worked out sometimes. He took another step forward and Juliette stood up to face him finally.

“Did you see Daniel and Miguel?” Juliette asked, her voice level. Somehow this scared him more than when he could hear the blistering anger in her voice. “They both were shot, their wounds far worse than my own.”

“I saw Miguel,” Arthur admitted. “Aimed around him.”

“That is what it takes then? You have to know them?” Juliette asked.

“It ain’t- it ain’t like that,” Arthur fumbled.

She stared at him, hurt shining in her eyes. He felt the need to explain himself, to find some words to promise he’d never wanted this. He’d been foolish to think she’d never see that side of him, that he could hide it. This was his fault.

“Then what is it like? Please, enlighten me,” Juliette demanded, her voice rising.

“Didn’t have much choice,” Arthur said. “Pinkertons had John.”

“You did not have a choice,” Juliette repeated in disbelief.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Her gaze hurt more than anything she could say. There was a lingering look of betrayal in them. It felt like she was looking for a part of him she knew, trying to figure out if she’d ever known him. He felt conflicted, some part of him wanted to tell her he wasn’t a good man, that he’d done this plenty of times before, but… he was just as desperate to tell her he’d always been honest with her, he’d never wanted to hurt her. He wanted to promise this only happened because they were backed into a corner, but he wasn’t certain that was true anymore.

They could’ve left.

“I couldn’t just walk away-“ Arthur began, struggling to find the right thing to say. 

He felt like he was saying someone else’s words, reciting what he’d heard, what he’d been told. _We couldn’t just walk away, Arthur, they had John. _

“They had-“

Anger flashed through her eyes and he stopped dead.

“Innocent people died, Arthur,” Juliette said. “Your gang did not just kill the Pinkertons that had your friend, they killed innocent people… _You _killed innocent people.”

He didn’t dare speak, unable to find the courage to say a word.

“Are you okay with that?” Juliette asked, her voice falling. She sounded like she was scared of what he might answer. 

She stared him down and Arthur hesitated. He wasn’t used to her looking at him like that, like he was the enemy. Maybe he was, but he certainly didn’t want to be.

“I ain’t,” Arthur said. “They had one of our gang members, I couldn’t just walk away.”

“They had John,” Juliette said coldly, looking away from him for a moment. “Only recourse is to shoot the town, naturally.”

Arthur stared at her, his heart racing. He hesitated a moment, waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t. What more was there to say? She knew what he did.

“They okay?” Arthur finally asked. His voice had dropped to a murmur, lacking any power.

Juliette’s gaze flickered back to him; her eyes narrowed in uncertainty.

“Miguel ‘n Daniel,” Arthur explained. “They uh… gonna be alright?”

“Yes… they will be fine,” Juliette said. The edge in her voice was gone, no longer was it harsh and angry. Instead she sounded tired and defeated. He wasn’t sure which he hated more.

He waited for her, uncertain what happened next. Her gaze moved back to him, studying him with a look of sorrow.

“Is that what happened in Strawberry?”

Something worse had happened in Strawberry. In Strawberry he couldn’t even justify it. They could’ve run, escaped without anyone gettin’ hurt, but Micah… Micah was something else entirely. Arthur was beginning to wish he’d left him to rot in the jail. Might have done the gang a favor by doin’ it. They didn’t need another hothead without any morals. They had plenty of those.

Hell, they could’ve run in Valentine too. Had the option to turn and leave, but Dutch wanted to make a point. He’d made a point alright, but it ain’t the one he wanted.

Arthur didn’t answer, but that was enough for her. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She said something in French, her voice distraught. Arthur remained where he was, not daring to say anything.

“Is this what you do?” Juliette asked after a moment, her voice just above a whisper.

“No,” Arthur said immediately, but as the word escaped him, he realized it was.

The last three towns they’d been too all ended in a gunfight. Innocent people had been shot… he hadn’t thought about it before then. He’d only focused on protecting the gang, keeping everyone safe. There were people that shot back, defendin’ their town… Innocent people had been in the crossfire. In the moment he didn’t think of it. All that mattered was that people were shootin’ at ‘em and he shot back. He’d undoubtedly killed innocent townsfolk in that exchange.

He wasn’t ok with it, but… he didn’t have much control over it.

“Maybe,” Arthur relented. “I ain’t… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Juliette repeated. She sounded angry, rightfully so. “You are _sorry_. What specifically are you sorry for, Arthur? That you killed innocent people? Or that I saw you? What would you have done if I was not there?”

“I ain’t… I’m sorry for all of it, Jules,” Arthur sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, looking around for a moment. “This ain’t ever what I wanted to happen…”

He trailed off. He didn’t have any real answers for her. He didn’t know what he would have done if she hadn’t been there. Miguel and Daniel would have told her, certainly, but he wasn’t certain he would have. He wasn’t sure how much regret he’d have over Valentine if she hadn’t been there. It was a horrible thing, but he was sure he _wouldn’t _regret Valentine if not for her. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he wouldn’t thought about it long. Would’ve moved on, left the worrying to Hosea, and the planning to Dutch.

“We were… lucky, Arthur,” Juliette said quietly.

She closed her eyes tight for a moment, taking a deep shuddering breath.

He wondered how many bodies they’d left behind in Valentine. If he asked, would she know? He wasn’t sure he wanted that answer. He’d never seen the fallout of what they left behind, hadn’t ever considered it. They shot a lot of people that day, far too many. These days they shot more people than they helped.

Innocent people died, but… Juliette survived. It was a horrible thought, he knew it was, but at least _she_ survived it.

He looked up to see her watching him.

“Does it only matter your gang survived?” Juliette asked.

“It ain’t… it ain’t that simple, Juliette,” Arthur said. “We ain’t in a good spot. We got them breathin’ down our necks… it ain’t good what happened, but…”

“You had no choice?”

He met her gaze and felt a part of him break. Her green eyes glistened, a look of hurt swimming in them.

He stepped forward out of instinct, but she stepped back. He stared at her as his heart constricted painfully in his chest. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know what to say to make this right… he didn’t know if there was anything he could do. 

“Arthur,” she began, her voice a pained murmur. “What am I supposed to do?”

Again, he didn’t have an answer for her. He wouldn’t fight whatever choice she made. If she told him to leave, he would. She could tell him he was dead to her, and he’d understand.

“Is this who you want to be?” Juliette asked.

“No.”

The word had escaped him thoughtlessly, but he knew it was true. He’d never wanted to be this. Felt like his hand had been forced, didn’t have much of a choice no more. They’d wanted to be good, started by giving back, but now… they were as bad as everyone said.

He watched as she sunk back down, sitting by the fire, her gaze returning to it.

“Juliette?” he asked hesitantly, his voice catching in his throat.

She didn’t look up at him.

“I ain’t… I’m sorry,” he said helplessly.

She was quiet for a moment.

“I know,” she sighed.

If he were a better man, he would have turned and left right then. He wouldn’t risk endangering her again, but somehow, he found himself moving towards her once again without a plan. He’d known this wouldn’t work out well, and yet he didn’t leave.

He wasn’t a good man, not by a long shot. But for the first time in a long while, he found himself wishing he was.

He stood near her hesitantly, hovering as he waited for her to tell him to leave. She did no such thing. After a moment she shifted over, leaving room for him to sit. He was surprised by this, but settled beside her, grateful.

Despite everything, she still wanted him beside her.

They sat in silence, time seeming to stop as he let the gravity of the situation sink in. He didn’t know how to fix this, any of it. He was in a bad spot and he’d gone and gotten her shot at. He never wanted this. He wanted to pretend everything was fine, that the threat from the Pinkertons was just that. He knew better than anyone it hadn’t been an empty threat, but… goddammit he wished it was. Life had never been easy, but it certainly had gotten harder. They’d always lived rough, but this… this was what they swore to never be.

“Why are you still here?”

Arthur looked over at her in surprise. She stared ahead at the fire, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“Want me to leave?” Arthur asked quietly.

He was more than willing to leave. He’d overstayed his welcome by a longshot, but he… couldn’t just go.

The gang needed him; he knew they did. They’d just moved camps, there was a lot of work to do and he’d just left. Ran off to find a woman that was better off without him.

“No.”

He watched her closely for a moment and he could see her visibly relax.

He felt his heart lift some. He couldn’t explain why she didn’t want him to leave. She was a smart woman, deserved better than him. She should’ve sent him packing a long time ago. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t… by now everyone else had realized it. He’d had a couple of chances with Mary, but each time it only took her a few weeks to send him off again.

“I ain’t…” Arthur trailed off for a moment, unwilling to voice the rest of his thought. He sighed heavily, forcing himself to continue. “I ain’t someone you should associate with.”

“What does that mean?” Juliette asked, her voice flat. Her gaze flicked over to him briefly, studying him, before going back to the fire. “Will you continue to shoot up towns?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Arthur admitted.

He stared down at his hat, studying one of the several bullet holes. It was hard for him to tell which ones he caused and which one his pa had. It didn’t matter much, he reckoned. He’d sworn to be different, better, but the hat remained the same. Aging as it would’ve with him, gaining new scuffs and bullet holes. 

“I don’t want to,” Arthur said. “I’m tired of runnin’. Real tired of it. Feels like we’re only putting off the inevitable.”

Juliette glanced over at him again, frowning thoughtfully.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“I… know the feeling,” Juliette admitted.

Her gaze slid back to the fire.

“Arthur, I… have never been a good person,” Juliette said slowly. “But I realize this and I am trying to be better.” 

“Better? You ain’t shootin’ up towns,” Arthur reasoned.

“No, I am not,” Juliette agreed. “But I am a long way from my own sins.”

Arthur stared at her with an uncertain frown. He rightfully couldn’t see her doing anything nearly as bad as what he’d done. Wasn’t sure anything could be comparable.

“I have been given a second chance… something I am unsure I deserve,” Juliette admitted quietly. “I am unwilling to squander it, regardless. I do not want to be that person anymore… and as much as I enjoy your company, I am tired of standing by while people die. I understand you are in a tough position, but… if we are going to keep doing this… I need you to tell me this is now who you are.”

“It ain’t,” Arthur said. “This ain’t ever been what we wanted. Long time ago, we did good… but everythin’s gotten out of hand, I reckon. Feels like we’re in a world that don’t want us no more.”

“No one ever wanted criminals.”

He’d never thought of it that way. Dutch’s preaching had always been ingrained in him. The world had needed them to give balance. Somehow along the line they’d become far worse than the people they were fighting against.

“Nothing is fair,” Juliette said. “And while there is a gray area between good and bad, there is a line, Arthur. It is easy to cross and easier to see it blur with each step you take.”

“Reckon you’re right,” he agreed. “We just… back then we thought we were reallocatin’ wealth is all.”

“It is… very easy to make something horrible sound good, Arthur.”

Her voice had a strange weight to it, he guessed she was speaking from experience.

“I’m learnin’,” Arthur muttered.

They sat in silence for some time, but Arthur couldn’t tell how long. The sun had long since disappeared. Time seemed to stop for them, letting them contemplate everything that had happened.

“Are you ok?” Arthur asked.

He glanced down to her arm, his gaze on the bandages.

“I am fine,” Juliette sighed. “It only grazed me.”

That didn’t make him feel particularly better.

“For a first wound by a gun, I suppose this is the best I could hope for,” Juliette reasoned.

Arthur wasn’t sure he agreed with that. He knew it was nearly impossible for her to travel and not get hurt, but he’d hoped the day wouldn’t come.

“I have survived worse,” Juliette said.

Arthur looked over at her, his interest ignited by this. She didn’t seem like someone to get in gunfights and he couldn’t think of anything that compared.

“I was in a fire, a few years ago,” Juliette explained.

Her voice was flat, but a dark look flickered in her narrowed eyes. 

“I was naïve,” Juliette said bitterly. “Trusted someone… I evidently should not have.”

Her eyes flashed with anger again, fire flickering in them.

“Reckon it wasn’t an accident?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Juliette said. “Of course, on paper it was, and that is all that matters in this world.” 

Juliette glared at the fire.

“He could have hired someone to kill me,” Juliette said lowly. “Could have poisoned my food, shot me, but he chose to burn the building.”

Arthur hadn’t ever heard anyone angry over how someone tried to kill them. Usually it didn’t matter, the only thing that did matter was the attempted murder. He didn’t particularly understand why she’d care. 

“Christ,” Arthur said.

“Four people died for my mistake,” Juliette said and then Arthur understood why she was angered by that. “And _I_ survived.”

Arthur considered this for a moment.

“Why’d he try ‘n kill you?”

He still rightfully couldn’t understand why anyone would try and kill her. He reckoned he didn’t know much about her past, but he wasn’t sure he needed to. He knew who she was.

“I realized what was happening,” Juliette said. “That I was being deceived. I have never been a good person, Arthur. I have said things I can never unhear, made choices I will always regret, but… I did not realize how horrible it was and when I did, I tried to fix it… but it was too late.” 

“If… you were tryin’ to do good,” Arthur began uncertainly. “Surely you ain’t bad.”

“That was an excuse, Arthur,” Juliette said. “It always had been, I suppose. It was always a game to me, I had not considered what happened after I won… and by the time I did, I was far too late. It is pitiful how long it took me to discover this… to realize how blind I was.”

He saw a flicker of light shimmer and he glanced down to see the fire light glinted off of her necklace, making the gold of the chains shine bright. This was the first time he’d ever seen it fully uncovered. He hadn’t even noticed it until then, he’d been so entirely focused on her. The necklace looked as expensive as he thought, with small pearls hanging from the chains. One of the chains was intricately draped against the other, held in place by the pearls. The pendant was small with a diamond in the center.

Arthur looked back to the fire, considering what she had said. He’d never seen the aftermath they left in the towns, never considered it until recently. He had acted thoughtlessly, followed blindly, to protect his own. He trusted Dutch without a second thought, but… if he’d listened more to Hosea, maybe he coulda stopped all of this. They didn’t need to rob Cornwall’s train; it’d brought them far more pain than it was worth. They could be lyin’ low, the Pinkertons wouldn’t be this close.

Silence lapsed between them, both lost in their thoughts.

“I had a son once.”

He was surprised by his own voice. He hadn’t even been thinking of him, Isaac was a thought he’d banished to the back of his mind. He’d tried to forget, tried to push it as far away from himself as he could. Yet somehow, he always creeped back. Arthur would see Jack running across the camp and sunlight would hit his hair, making it look lighter, and for a moment Arthur would forget. He’d forget he was dead, buried miles and miles away. For a moment his son would be back and then… he’d turn to look at Arthur and he’d know. Reality would crush him again, make him remember how horrible he was.

He’d never told anyone about him. Not Dutch, not Hosea, not John… no one. He was something Arthur hadn’t dared admit even to himself.

“Years ago,” Arthur muttered. “I don’t talk about him much.”

“What was his name?” Juliette asked gently.

“Isaac,” Arthur supplied. “He was… a real good kid, deserved better than me… reckon almost everyone I’ve met does. Reckon… that’s why Mary broke off our engagement, realized… she deserved better.” 

Juliette took his hand in hers and he glanced over at her. She was watching the fire, wearing a look of remorse.

“What happened to him?”

His gaze slid to the floor, a heavy weight settling in his chest.

“Died… his mother, Eliza, was a waitress… she knew who I was, never asked me for anything. I… well I was young and foolish… thought they’d be fine while I was off runnin’ with the gang, causin’ all kinds of hell… then one day I came back and I saw two crosses outside of the house.”

“I am sorry,” Juliette murmured. 

“Yeah, well… I reckon good things don’t happen to bad people.”

It was a fact he was beginning to learn more each day. He deserved most of the bad things that happened to him, he knew that, but everyone else? They deserved more, better than anything he could offer them. He always tried to help folks that he could, but it felt like more and more he was only making things worse for them. 

“If that were true, I never would have met you.”

Arthur looked back at Juliette. 

“Thought I’d scared you off,” Arthur said. “Made you regret ever havin’ me around.”

She glanced over at him, a corner of her lip turning up in a hesitant smile.

“I do not scare easy,” Juliette said.

Arthur chuckled softly.

They fell into another moment of comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. He wasn’t sure why Juliette wasn’t sending off, but he was mighty grateful for it. He certainly didn’t deserve it, not after everything he’d put her through.

“You know… the sheriff asked if I knew anything,” Juliette said after a moment. “Even after what had happened, I could not tell him.”

“Wouldn’t blame you if you had,” Arthur muttered. “Surprised you didn’t, to be honest… I was expectin’ to run into those bounty hunter friends of yours when I came to find you.”

“I am awfully fond of you, cowboy,” Juliette said. “More than I would care to admit.”

“That so?” Arthur asked with a slight smile.

“I’m afraid so.” 

As the night continued on, slowly and steadily they moved closer together, until there was no space in between them. Juliette leaned her head against his shoulder, and he put an arm around her. They stayed like that for hours. He didn’t realize how long it’d been until light began to filter through the trees.

If it was up to him, they would have remained like that for a lot longer. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how things worked. As much as he wanted time to stop, it never would. It continued on without him and begrudgingly he had no choice but to follow along.

He stayed longer than he should have, helping tend to the fire and care for the horses. Eventually he left and he regretted every step he took away from the camp. Whiskey seemed just as unwilling as he was, anytime Arthur relaxed Whiskey would try and turn back. Whether they liked it or not, they had to go back. Arthur had to take care of the gang; he wasn’t about to abandon them… but for the first time in a long while, he found himself imaging a life in which he did leave. It seemed awfully appealing, letting all of his troubles leave with them to start a new life for himself.

Yet it was only a dream, and he still returned to the camp. It had taken him a while, but he got there. The sun had crawled up above the trees, making it clear just how much time he’d spent away from camp.

Javier greeted him from his spot guarding the camp and Arthur nodded. He brought Whiskey back towards the other horses and brushed him off.

Once he was done, he turned back to the camp to see what needed to be done. He felt tired, but not nearly as tired as he should. He could get some work done before resting. He ended up not getting as much done before settling at one of the tables, but he’d done something. That was more than he could say for a lot of others at the camp. He could see Uncle lazing about but didn’t feel any inclination to snap at him as he had the previous day.

“Good morning, Arthur,” Abigail greeted.

Arthur glanced up to see Abigail walking past.

“Mornin’,” Arthur returned.

“Are you feeling better?” Abigail questioned. 

“Sure,” Arthur said.

He was feeling a hell of a lot better. Juliette was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys liked it! this one is a lil shorter since there isn't much action, but the next one will have some c;


	13. Deputy Outlaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo!! i hope everyone had a great holidays and if you had finals you did good! I got my scores back and im so grateful astronomy didn't tank my gpa so i'm on a high still  
how's everyone's holiday so far?

Juliette had never felt so lost.

Always, she had something to guide her. Whether it the words of others or her own inclinations, she always something leading her on. Now… she had nothing. No one to look to for advice, no one to consult. For the first time in a long while, she found herself missing Edmond. He had always been there to listen to her and offer her guidance when she asked for it. She had trusted him entirely. But… that was a long time ago. She could not trust him even if he were here, he had followed so blindly.

Miguel and Daniel had both offered her advice, but… they only knew of Arthur as an outlaw. Everything they had to tell her was about his crimes, something she had wanted to ignore so desperately…

She had done this to herself, really.

She had been foolish to overlook Arthur’s bounty, to pretend it had to be a mistake. He had been kind to her, but she… evidently was lucky. If the situation had been different, would he have killed her? It was a thought she hated and wanted to banish from her mind, but it kept creeping back. If he had not known her, would he have shot her in Valentine? 

It was a cruel thought, one that made pain strike through her. She wanted to believe he would never had harmed her, not in any scenario, but the facts before her argued against that. She had been shot by someone, not him, but one his allies. As had Daniel and Miguel, none of them escaped unscathed.

She wondered then if Miguel had aimed to kill Arthur. She had put them both in a horrible position. An outlaw and a bounty hunter. What had she done? What _would _she do? She did not want to say goodbye to Arthur, the thought of it made her heart tighten painfully… but how could she pretend it had not happened? How could she be ok with him killing innocent people? She was not, she never would be.

She did not want to aid in people being harmed ever again. Arthur was not malicious; he had said his gang was in a difficult position… she knew they were… but shooting a town? She did not understand how that could feasibly be the best option. It put a larger target on their backs, had their faces plastered up across Valentine, they could not back. She could not understand the logic behind it, the bloodshed seemed so pointless to her.

There had to be a line, but she could not find it. She had wanted this to be simple, everything to be black and white, but she had always dealt with shades of gray. America was no different. She had wanted it to be, hoped it to be, but… it simply was not. The people that were supposed to be good, the sheriff, killed his own citizens. The outlaw that was supposed to be horrible had saved her, expecting no reward. He had saved her multiple times, spent hours with her, and never once had she doubted his intent.

She wished he had just robbed her.

If he had robbed her, she would not be conflicted. She would not have the feeling of blood on her hands. There would be a well-defined line in Valentine, for all of them. She would not be questioning every decision she made, trying to recount every exchange they had.

_I never could’ve robbed you._

His words whispered in the back of her head, forcing her to close her eyes. His eyes had been so gentle then… she did not understand how those eyes could belong to the same man she had seen in Valentine. That day felt so far away then. Back then she had been so certain he would never harm her.

If he had robbed her, everything would be so much simpler.

She had planned on moving on from him, but that night when he had come, she could not turn him away if she wanted to. Her plan had immediately fallen apart. He had not reacted to anything as she expected, he did not fight her, but instead admitted his own faults. He had said that was not who he wanted to be, but… this was not the first time. Blackwater, Strawberry, and Valentine were the ones she knew about, but there could be more.

Juliette wanted desperately to trust him, to believe he wanted to be better, but she could not blindly believe him any longer. It was a mistake she kept making and she was uncertain when she would finally learn her lesson.

It had been comforting to find solace in someone else. She did not know how lonely she had been until he left. She found his presence reassuring; she was able to speak unguarded with him. She had always trusted her own judgement, but the first time in a while she found herself questioning it.

Unfortunately, that day proved her judgement to be poor.

She had been riding not far from Rhodes when she heard the sound of another rider approaching. Without a passing thought, Juliette ignored the sound. She only looked up as they drew closer, but by then it was too late. By the time she saw the glint of silver, she could not adequately dodge. The bullet plunged deep into her, striking pain through her abdomen.

Instantly Juliette moved a hand to her new wound, before her gaze trained back on the pistol to see it pointed at her still. She glanced up at the man briefly. He had a hooked nose and a deep scowl. She felt a flicker of recognition, but she could not discern from where she knew him.

Before he could pull the trigger again, Fleur lurched forward. Fleur did not need much encouragement to run, all it took was the slightest indication from Juliette and she was off. Fleur moved quick enough that the second bullet missed them both entirely, the man had not aimed far enough ahead.

Juliette risked a look back a moment later to see the man spurring his chestnut appaloosa after them. Juliette swore under her breath, hot blood spilling in between her fingers. It had only been a week since she was last shot. How had her luck gotten so dreadful?

A voice shouted behind her, but it was muddled against the sound of hoof steps. 

They took a sharp turn, Fleur followed the direction and turned flawlessly. If they were not in as much danger as they were, Juliette would have been far more impressed. They continued down the road as more gunshots fired off. She felt pain split through her arm and she grimaced. 

The man shouted after them. There was a forest coming up, it would offer them plenty of cover. Another shot went off but missed them entirely.

“_Just a little further, girl,” _Juliette reassured in French.

Fleur continued forward and towards the forest. As they reached the forest Juliette had to focus closely on directing Fleur around the trees. The gunshots sounded further off, but Juliette did not dare slow Fleur down until she was forced to. Once the trees were closer together, they had to slow. She could no longer hear the sound of another horse, but her heartbeat was pounding loudly in her ears. Loud enough that she would not be surprised if she simply overlooked the sound of someone following.

Yet as they continued on and her heart calmed, she still did not hear anything. She released a shuddering breath and felt pain ripple through her. Juliette winced and risked a look down to see blood coating her hand, sticking to it. More blood pooled out as she moved her hand away. She sighed and moved her hand back to the wound, balling her shirt to try and stop the bleeding.

This had been her favorite shirt. When she had bought it, she had expected it to be temporary, it seemed subpar when she first bought it. The color was dull, an off white, but she found it paired well with everything else she had bought. She discovered it was harder to find skirts that would match any color that was not neutral. If they did, they were often a putrid color, not something Juliette would wear even in the worst of circumstances.

They continued through the forest slowly, without a goal. Heading back out would be asking for death, she could not defend herself like this. 

She began to reach for her saddlebag, but instantly stopped as pain ripped through her at even the slightest movement. She bit her lip and gripped the reins tightly, her fingernails digging into her own skin. She thought she could feel the bullet then, burrowed under her skin.

“Dammit,” Juliette said under her breath.

She felt nauseous at the thought.

Juliette brought Fleur to a halt a few moments later, deciding it was finally time to take a look at her wound. She slowly dismounted Fleur, holding onto the saddle tightly as a strong burning tear through her. The slightest movement agitated her wound, causing blood to pour from it.

Once her feet were safely on the ground, she steadied herself against Fleur. The floor beneath her quaked, leaving her feeling uncertain. Her dizziness passed moments later, and she was able to rummage through her saddlebag. She found some bandages, but not nearly enough. She had nothing to disinfect the wound, the best she had was water, but even that she did not have much of. She had planned on trying to find a water source that day, but… things had not gone her way.

She found a fallen tree to sit down on as she attempted to tend to her wounds. Juliette took in a deep breath to ready herself. Carefully she unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it away from the wound. She winced, but she had expected the pain to accompany it. Carefully she poured the water over the wound, using a clean handkerchief to clean away the dried blood. Once it was adequately cleaned, she tried to find the bullet. She started by gently pressing her hand around the wound and was annoyed to find it had gone it at an angle. Juliette knew under the best of circumstances she would struggle to get the bullet out. Her hand was shaking then and her confidence in her skills was low. This… she would need a better tool. All she had was a hunting knife, something she did not trust herself with.

Juliette sighed in frustration, her irritation rising. This man had butchered the job, if he had been better, she would not have this issue. She would be dead or have a more serious wound, but…

“_Perhaps I should be grateful,_” Juliette murmured to Fleur.

Fleur stared at her; her brown eyes soft. Juliette wondered if Fleur understood Juliette was hurt, if that was why her eyes looked so sad. Perhaps it was just Juliette projecting onto her.

“_I will be fine,_” Juliette reassured.

She was not sure if that was true. She wanted to believe it, but she knew how deadly infections could be. She gently felt around the entrance of the wound, trying to feel where the bullet was. As she carefully moved up, she found the bullet. She couldn’t tell how deep it was, it certainly was far enough under her skin that she could not simply… _cut _it out, which she was grateful for. Juliette was not sure she had the stomach for that, she was already feeling nauseous just from the thought. The blood loss did not help.

Juliette tended to her wounds the best that she could. She did not have enough supplies and certainly did not have the skill to take care of them properly. She left the bullet alone, leaving it burrowed under her skin. She struggled even with the graze wound on her shoulder, it was not easy to care for. It took much longer than she thought to stop the bleeding, every time she shifted more blood would ooze out. Each time she dabbed away the blood she would see the burn scar snaking across her shoulder, and she would feel a prickling burning under her skin. It had been years since she had been in the fire, but each time she thought of it she could feel a familiar sting, smell burning flesh, _her _burning flesh. It had haunted her for far too long, it lingered in the back of her mind as a monster hid in shadows. It had quieted since she had left France, but it was still there. The scar remained as a harsh reminder, never fading.

Juliette would need to find some sort of help, whether it be a doctor or better equipment. Juliette did not know if she would be able to find adequate supplies or medical help in Rhodes, but it was the closest town. She was not about to ride to Valentine seeking assistance… Saint Denis was not horribly far away, but it was far enough that she would arrive too late for any substantial assistance.

She grimaced and brushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“_Does not appear like I have many options,_” Juliette said quietly.

Fleur watched her, her ears lifting at the sound of Juliette’s voice. Juliette stood up and instantly felt the ground beneath her quake. She swallowed and gripped her shirt tightly, trying desperately to anchor herself. After a moment, it did pass. Juliette took a few hesitant steps towards Fleur. Fleur noticed and closed the distance between them. Juliette smiled thankfully up at her.

“_Beautiful girl,_” Juliette murmured.

She patted her neck gently. She took in a deep breath, gathering herself. Slowly and carefully she pulled herself back up onto the saddle. It was painful and took far too much effort. Once she was safely in the saddle, she felt completely drained. Pitifully so.

Despite this, Juliette found herself unafraid. The last few months had felt like she was holding her breath, waiting for this. The unknown unnerved her; she had been waiting months for a reaction. This was not the one she expected, she was uncertain if this even was something that had followed her. The man had _missed. _The more she thought about it, the more she realized he seemed surprised. He had hesitated a moment, had not shot her upon first glance. She had been close to death twice before, both caused by her own arrogance. Both times, she had been lucky. Her assailant was trained and had her schedule memorized. This man had stumbled across her and from feet away did not kill her.

She considered this as they made their way through the forest.

Desperately Juliette tried to recall everything she could about the man, but the details were slipping away already. It was like trying to hold water, each time she held on tighter the faster it left her. She huffed in frustration. She felt as if she were missing one small, but crucial piece of a puzzle.

Once they reached the edge of the forest, Juliette peered out to survey their surroundings. She did not see anyone nearby, only a deer in the distance. A rattling sounded and she looked up to see a rickety old cart being pulled by a large black shire. She could not see the rider in clear detail, they were too far away, but he was wearing a dark hat.

“_What do you think?_” Juliette asked Fleur. “_I suppose we cannot stay here forever, can we?_”

Juliette sat up straighter and felt a strong burning seize her. She winced.

“_I butchered this as well_,” Juliette admitted as they headed towards the path again. “_Perhaps I should have invested in more medical supplies after…”_

She trailed off; the word Valentine somehow felt akin to a curse then.

Juliette did best to keep a watch for the man, but she struggled to check behind them often enough. Twisting her torso caused for more pain than it was worth, each time it felt like she reopened the wound. It was frustrating. He had simply waltzed up and shot her, there was no planning, he simply stumbled upon her. It was infuriating, really. If she had chosen another trail, she would have avoided him entirely. That evidently was America, blessed were the lucky, the gold finders.

The ride to Rhodes was long and painful. With each step it felt like the bullet sunk deeper into her flesh, reigniting the burning. She kept one hand over her wound and at times it felt like she was holding herself together, if she stopped, she would fall a part at the seams. She kept her teeth gritted, growling out a reminder to herself it was not that much farther. She would not die on some dusty road to be discovered by a farmer and buried in a field to be forgotten. Juliette would almost prefer to have died in the woods, where no one would find her for years.

Fleur shook her head and Juliette looked up at her for a moment. That was at least one reason to make it to Rhodes, Fleur. Juliette was certain a beautiful horse as her would have no trouble finding another owner, but that would not be preferred. She certainly did not want anyone that resided in Rhodes to ride her, Fleur deserved better than that. The people down here were depraved, desolate from society and sunken in their old corrupt ways. They were the worst America had to offer; their morals somehow worse than the gangs that plagued the west. They left a bitter taste in her mouth with every word they spoken, their accents reminding her of where she dragged herself in a desperate escape to run away from her mistakes.

Slowly the town drew closer, the small buildings growing larger, but not towering. They were smaller and far less impressive than Valentine, and Valentine had been a pathetic town. It at least had decent people… and perhaps Rhodes did too, but Juliette was in no mood to shift through the mud for decency. All she needed was someone to sell her what she needed. They did not need to exchange pleasantries or even a look really. 

The people of Rhodes seemed accustomed to this as few even bothered to look up at her. Those that did watched her with a narrowed gaze as she passed through the main street. Juliette sat up straighter in her saddle, but immediately felt the bullet dig into her. Juliette clenched her hands, her nails digging into her skin.

Unfortunately for her, the general store was at the opposite end from where she had entered the town. Perhaps it was lucky, she did get a chance to gather herself, but she was also seen by far more people than she would prefer. Juliette was in no mood to combat the dirty looks thrown her way.

Fleur came to a halt outside of the general store, but Juliette hesitated for a moment. If the man were to pass through the town, it would not take much to track her down. Juliette considered this for a moment, before turning Fleur to walk over to the building across the street. This was not much better; she was only across the street… but she did not want to test how far she could walk.

She did not see any signs declaring it a business but did not look particularly closely either. It seemed to be a store of _some kind; _it certainly did not look residential. The windows were too large, there were hitching posts out front, and it was situated on the main street.

The gunsmith was next door, something Juliette was not particularly fond of. If the man did pass through Rhodes, he would surely restock on bullets. He had wasted several earlier, he had to be low.

Juliette let out a heavy breath.

She held on to the horn of the saddle for a moment, gathering what little strength she had remaining.

“_Okay,_” Juliette murmured.

Before she could lose her courage, Juliette dismounted Fleur.

As her feet touched the ground, pain tore through her fiercely, it felt as if it was ripping her a part. She held onto the saddle tightly, leaning heavily against Fleur.

_Believe in Heaven? _

His words rung in her mind briefly, a nagging whisper in the back of her mind. She did not know what to believe in anymore. When she was little, her grandfather brought her to church every week. Slowly and steadily that tradition ended. At first it was only a few missed, but it kept increasing and increasing until she hardly saw him. Now Juliette questioned if this was planned, when her grandfather had died it seemed she was the only one struck by it. Marie of course was pained by it, but she had been too young when he visited frequently.

Juliette glanced up at the sky, feeling the warmth of the sun fall across her. Clouds streaked the blue sky, slowly making their way across it. A cold wind blew through the town, easily settling in Juliette’s bones. She shivered and tugged her jacket tighter.

She reclaimed her gun and slid it into her satchel, praying she would not need it. She took another moment to catch her breath, before finally turning.

Each step took far too much effort, an agonizing amount. With each step she found herself questioning how much father she could go. Somehow, she made it to the door. She struggled with the handle, her hand shaking. She twisted it and pushed the door open. A bell jingled in the shop softly. Blood stained the handle as she walked away.

“Had a fun afternoon?” a voice drawled from the shadows of the room.

Juliette’s eyes narrowed as she hunted for the culprit. Her eyes landed on a rather large man settled behind the counter. He peered out at her from behind wire framed glasses, his small brown eyes watching her for only a moment before his gaze returned to a newspaper.

“Incredibly,” Juliette replied curtly.

“Bandages over there,” the clerk said. “Try not to bleed out in my store, bad for business.”

“Have much business?” Juliette asked thinly.

There was no one else in the shop and the few people wandering the streets did not seem eager to go shopping.

“Not with a corpse in my shop,” the clerk scoffed.

“Got one under the floorboards? That would explain the smell,” Juliette retaliated.

The clerk looked up from his newspaper for a moment, before turning back to it.

“I ain’t the gunsmith,” the clerk said dully. 

Juliette watched as he straightened out his newspaper, his gaze lazily studying it. Juliette glanced around the store and spotted the wall he had indicated before. There was a display of medical supplies, but there did not appear to be much. Nothing to retrieve a bullet with.

“Is there a doctor in this town?” Juliette asked as she approached the display.

“Nah,” the clerk said. “Unless you wanna try that fraud’s wagon… well poor bastard got robbed, I reckon he won’t be able to do much harm.”

He chuckled harshly and Juliette’s frown deepened. She did not particularly trust his word on what a fraud was, but she was not going to debate with a small-town fool.

Juliette studied the supplies he had for sale, her gaze tracing over each item carefully. She had not expected much, but somehow, he still managed to disappoint her.

“Is this it?” Juliette asked, her frustration evident in her tone.

“Mhm. Got a gun shop ‘cross the way if you want a quick cure.”

Juliette looked up at him with narrowed eyes, but he was busy staring at his newspaper. 

She picked out what she could use and gathered all of the bandages. She managed to carry it all with her one hand, it was pathetic really. Juliette was not sure how much good this would do her; she did a lot of harm by travelling here in the first place. She set out the items on the counter. The clerk did not look up from his newspaper.

“Always this diligent?” Juliette questioned bitterly.

“Sure,” he said, unbothered by her cutting tone.

After a moment, he finally set his newspaper on the counter and looked up at her. He studied her again.

“What kinda accent is that anyway? Ain’t look like you’re from here.”

“I would hope not,” Juliette said.

Carefully Juliette shifted through her satchel for her money. The clerk looked down and spotted her gun.

“That all you got to protect yourself?” he questioned. “Ain’t got anyone to protect you?”

Juliette did not answer, but instead counted out her cash. She held it out for him, but the man did not accept it right away.

“If you would be so kind as to do your job, I am _trying _to be a patron in this horrid establishment,” Juliette said, her anger building.

She did not want to waste time in this terrible dust filled town, she wanted to spend as little time here as she feasibly could. Instead this man seemed intent on taking all of her time. 

He accepted her money and counted out the change.

“Y’know if you kept quiet, you might just be pretty,” he said. “Ain’t gonna get a husband mouthin’ off like that.”

“Right now, I am focused on not bleeding out,” Juliette snapped, irritation trickling into her voice.

“Ain’t doin’ a good job, are ya?”

“Go to hell-“

A bell jingled, cutting Juliette off. She glanced back to see Arthur standing in the doorway, staring down at his hand with a frown. Blood glistened as he rubbed his fingers together. As he looked up, Juliette looked away, her heart hammering.

Juliette certainly did not want him to see her like this.

“Now I know how you got shot,” the clerk growled. “Foul one, ain’t you? Ain’t no wonder you ain’t married.”

“Ain’t a way to talk to a lady,” Arthur said, his voice brimming with anger.

The clerk looked up at Arthur, seemingly just registering that someone new had entered. Juliette stowed the supplies she had bought into her satchel and listened intently for Arthur’s footsteps, but he did not move. He had to know it was her, there was no escaping it.

“Sorry about that sir-“

“Have a good day,” Juliette said coldly.

Juliette turned to face Arthur finally and saw he was glaring down the clerk. Juliette smiled weakly, suddenly glad he was around. The clerk stuttered out something under Arthur’s close gaze, but Juliette was not listening. Juliette walked over to Arthur, somehow able to overlook the pain she felt.

“Monsieur Morgan,” Juliette greeted.

“Hey there, Jules,” Arthur said.

“Let’s go outside,” Juliette murmured.

Arthur nodded, but didn’t move. Juliette shifted past Arthur and pulled the door open. She slid outside and Arthur followed.

“You been shot?” Arthur asked, concern seeping into his voice.

“Yes,” Juliette answered.

There was not much point lying, it would not take much to disprove her. Juliette stepped out onto the porch, moving to be out of the door. Arthur stopped in front of her, his gaze following her arm down to where her hand was still holding her wound. 

“Christ,” Arthur said. “What happened?”

He reached out and gently touched her hand, shifting it so he could see the wound better.

“I was shot,” Juliette said. “It is not an intricate tale; I did not shoot a town.”

Arthur froze for a moment, hesitating. Guilt trickled through her, she knew he was not proud of it, but… it still happened, he still played a part. She had not forgiven him for that yet, had not forgotten everything that had happened. Desperately she wished to pretend it had not happened, but… it had. He had killed innocent people.

He was quiet long enough that Juliette did not think he would reply, but finally he did. His voice was far quieter than it had been, uncertain and cautious. It was not a tone Juliette was used to hearing from him.

“It ain’t a smart plan,” Arthur mumbled.

“No,” Juliette agreed.

They were quiet for a moment, no words could the silence between them. Instead, Arthur investigated her wound further and Juliette remained quiet. Juliette could feel him gently shift the bandages but refused to look down. She did not need to see anymore of her blood. 

“Bullet still in it?” Arthur asked.

As he pressed a finger against the edge of her wound, she could feel it dig into her. Juliette winced, shifting against him.

“Yes,” Juliette said.

“Sorry,” Arthur muttered. “Shouldn’t leave it in there.”

“Yes, well, I was more focused on not being shot again,” Juliette said.

“Fair enough. Who shot you?”

Juliette did not answer him immediately. There were several people that wanted her dead, but who had tried to kill her… that she did not know.

“I have a few theories,” Juliette said quietly.

“A few?” Arthur repeated. “What kinda trouble you in?”

“I am not well liked,” Juliette said with a tired smile.

He stared at her for a moment and she could see the worry swimming in his blue eyes.

A familiar figure moved behind him and instantly Juliette shifted to be mostly hidden behind Arthur. She could hear her heart beating loudly in her ears. Juliette remained perfectly still, holding her breath. Arthur didn’t say a word, but his posture shifted. He stood taller, his head dipped down, his shoulders lifted, as his hand moved towards the gun at his side. Juliette reached out, stopping his hand before he could reach his gun. His gaze flickered to her for a moment, his eyes hardened, before flicking back to look over his shoulder.

Juliette held his hand firmly, unwilling to let another shootout happen. Carefully Juliette peered past his shoulder to see the appaloosa horse hitched beside Fleur. The man was no where to be seen.

“What’s the plan?” Arthur asked in a low voice.

Juliette considered this for a moment. Her gaze flickered down to where the sheriff’s office was, then back to the horses.

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. “I suppose…”

“I can get ‘im alive,” Arthur suggested. “Ain’t gotta kill the bastard.”

Juliette looked up at him in surprise.

“Sorry,” Arthur muttered.

“For what?” Juliette asked.

“I shouldn’t…” Arthur trailed off uncertainly.

The door to the building opposite them opened and Juliette stood up straighter. She watched as the man walked out. He looked familiar, painfully familiar, but she could not remember from where. He had a dull unfocused gaze, a sandy complexion, and now she could see a noticeable limp.

“That him?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” Juliette confirmed.

Arthur moved towards him, but Juliette held on to his hand. Arthur looked back at her quizzically.

“Be careful,” Juliette sighed.

His frown melted into a slight smile.

“Worrying ‘bout an outlaw now?”

“Believe me, I know,” Juliette said as her own smile grew.

“Wait here just a moment,” Arthur said. “I’ll wrangle him.”

Arthur turned away from her and Juliette let go. She watched as the man looked over at Arthur, his lip curled in disdain. Arthur sized him up, holding a lasso in his hand. Juliette found herself surprised this was his plan, in truth she did not even consider he could use a lasso. 

As the man mounted his horse, Arthur readied his lasso. Juliette watched as the man guided his horse away from the hitching post. Arthur whipped his lasso and twirled the it expertly, as if he truly were a cowboy. He tossed it and Juliette watched as It circled around the man’s head before plummeting down around his torso. Arthur pulled it taut, dragging the man down from the horse. He fell to the ground hard and swore loudly. His horse bolted away, kicking up dust over the man as it left.

“You ain’t very good at this, are you?” Arthur scoffed.

“Who the hell are you?!” the man demanded as he began to writhe on the ground.

Arthur placed a heavy foot on the man’s back, holding him still. Arthur growled something to the man, and he stopped squirming for a moment.

Juliette glanced around to see a small crowd forming outside of the nearby buildings. She could hear whispers coming from either side of the general store as people watched in astonishment.

She looked back to Arthur to see he had the man tied up. She spotted his pistol kicked a fair distance away, far from the man’s reach. Reassured by this, Juliette started towards them.

“Goddammit!” The man snarled. “I ain’t done nothin-!”

“Yeah?” Arthur asked threateningly.

The man quieted instantly, glaring up at Arthur in defiance.

“Heard you shot a friend of mine.”

“Didn’t kill her,” the man returned scathingly.

“You ain’t dead neither,” Arthur scoffed. “I’m afraid our meetin’ would be a whole lot more unpleasant if you had killed her.”

The man glared up at Arthur but did not dare say another word. Arthur was fairly frightening when he wanted to be, Juliette could not blame the man.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Juliette said as she reached them.

“’Course,” Arthur said. “What d’you want to do with him? Kill ‘im?”

The man began to struggle again, and Arthur kicked him roughly. The man swore but stopped writhing.

“No,” Juliette said. “Nothing like that.”

“Recognize him any?” Arthur asked.

Juliette studied with a thoughtful frown. He looked very pitiful on the ground, far less intimidating than he had been. Juliette nearly felt bad for him, she could see the fear in his eyes. Then she felt her wound pulse again and any sympathy she had for the man was gone. If he had not wanted this, he should have killed her.

“You do not look like a gun for hire,” Juliette decided.

“Cause I ain’t,” the man snapped. “I ain’t talkin’ none.”

Juliette’s frown deepened. He was not a very smart man either. He had overlooked Arthur entirely and did not look for her particularly hard. Fleur was fairly recognizable; he was a fool to ignore her.

“You’re gonna change your mind real quick, feller,” Arthur threatened lowly.

He leaned down and grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt, his hand balled into a fist. The man stared at him in panic, struggling against him. Arthur’s grip held firm, nothing the man did could change his fate. Juliette would not admit it aloud, but she was very impressed by Arthur. Him threatening the man that had shot her alleviated some of her pain. She appreciated greatly and enjoyed it more than she would care to admit. She was far from perfect, but that was not a new discovery.

“The sheriff can decide what happens to him,” Juliette said.

Arthur looked back at Juliette with a questioning frown, before fixing his gaze on the man once again.

“This was a personal vendetta,” Juliette explained. “If he is locked away, no one else will come.”

“You sure?” Arthur asked, sounding unconvinced.

She was fairly certain; he did not seem trained in the slightest. He acted like a farmhand that had a pistol but only shot at varmint. She could not think of any of her enemies that would send someone as unskilled as him. It would be insulting to even consider.

“Look at him,” Juliette said. “Even if he was sent by someone, they clearly could not even afford to send someone decent.”

Arthur stared down at the man, studying him with harsh narrowed eyes. He did not seem to see it the same way she did but relented regardless.

“If that’s what you want,” Arthur muttered after a moment.

He looked like he wanted to kill him still, but he did not. Juliette was impressed by his restraint.

“Come on,” Arthur said as he dragged the man to his feet. He continued lowly, “lucky the lady don’t want blood spilled.”

A look of terror crossed the man and Arthur smirked. Juliette studied the man closely, realization striking her.

“You were at the estate,” Juliette said slowly. “This was about…” that bounty they had caught weeks ago, but what was his name? She could not even remember; they were all very forgettable.

“Connor,” the man growled angrily. “You got ‘im locked away!”

Juliette stared at him disbelief.

“That is it?” Juliette asked incredulously. 

That was why he had wanted to kill her? For getting the owner of his ranch locked away? He had been sloppy; it was his own fault. If he had been clever, he could have easily gotten away with his crime. He committed fraud poorly. If he was going to do it, he should have at the very least done it _well_. It was a lesson he had to learn, he had grown complacent and lazy. Something that never went unpunished.

“Those bastard bounty hunters had been circlin’ for ages! I told ‘im not to trust you!”

She felt some relief that it was just that, but she was severely annoyed. Out of everything she could have been shot over, it was _this. _It was pathetic, really, she had not even been the main proponent in his arrest. She did not put his bounty up, she did not call him out for his fraud, she was not even a bounty hunter. All she did was trick him and he fell for it. It was his own fault. He had been foolish to trust her; he did not even question her motives. It was hardly a challenge.

“What’s goin’ on over here, folks?” a sharp voice asked.

Juliette looked over to see a tall thin man approaching them. He had blonde hair slicked back and a twisted mustache. A badge gleamed on his chest, revealing him to be the sheriff of the town. His eyes were small and dark, his face reminded her of a weasel.

“This man-“ Juliette began, but the sheriff cut her off, ignoring her entirely.

“Deputy Callahan,” The sheriff proclaimed. “What’s the problem here?”

Juliette’s eyes narrowed in irritation. Was he truly going to ignore her? 

“This man was tryin’ to kill my friend here,” Arthur answered.

Juliette looked at him in surprise. Her gaze flickered to his chest to see a badge pinned to his blue shirt. She had overlooked the badge earlier, something she cursed herself for. She frowned and looked up at Arthur with a raised eyebrow. He grimaced.

“We can’t have that,” the sheriff said. “Can we?”

“No, sir,” Arthur muttered.

“Don’t worry ma’am,” the sheriff said, acknowledging her for the first time. “You leave this to the men.”

“Of course,” Juliette said, her distaste evident. “With such proficient and _honest _lawmen, how could I not?”

She stared at the badge on Arthur’s chest for a moment, before looking back to the sheriff.

“That’s right,” the sheriff said. “Don’t you worry now.”

The sheriff seemed completely unaware of her contempt for him, even as she looked him up and down with an unimpressed frown. Juliette walked away from them rigidly, heading straight to Fleur.

“Juliette, wait,” Arthur called.

“I’ve got this,” the sheriff said. “Go on ahead.”

“Juliette,” Arthur repeated.

Juliette mounted Fleur. It took far more effort than it should have and wracked her with pain, she had moved far too quickly in her eagerness to get away. She ignored the pain the best she could, keeping her posture stiff as she looked down at Arthur.

“Yes, monsieur Callahan?” Juliette asked in a clearly forced tone. “Oh, I am sorry, _deputy _Callahan, was it?”

“It ain’t… I ain’t exactly happy about it either,” Arthur said. “Dutch reckons… well I dunno, if I’m bein’ honest.”

“Shooting one town, then deputy in the next? Either everything has changed or nothing has.”

She did not anticipate everything to change immediately, but she did not expect him to already be lying to a sheriff in the newest town. She knew they were in a tough position, having to lie low, not looking to join the law enforcement. There had to a scheme connected to this, one she was not eager to see play out. 

“Juliette… it ain’t…” he sighed. “It ain’t like that.”

Irritation flashed through her swiftly. Then what was it like? What possible reason could he have to be a deputy? He did not have any qualifications nor showed the desire, there had to be some deceit involved. It sounded like it was not him, but… Dutch was it?

“I do not have time to worry about your moral ambiguity,” Juliette decided in frustration.

She needed to focus on patching herself up, not on Arthur. The bullet burned sharply, it felt akin to a hot iron being pressed into her wound then. 

Juliette guided Fleur away from the hitching post and Arthur stepped back. She winced as Fleur moved, her hand moving back to her wound for a moment. Arthur stared at her in dismay.

“Let me help you,” Arthur urged.

She studied him for a moment, uncertainty coursing through her. She wanted to trust him, desperately so, but he had offered her so many reasons not to. His shoulders slumped as he seemed to understand what she was thinking.

A lump formed in her throat, and she closed her eyes. There it was again, that all-consuming feeling. How could she turn him away?

“Alright,” Juliette said quietly. She let out a long breath and stared at Fleur’s mane for a moment. “I am not staying here, regardless.”

Arthur nodded. He whistled for Whiskey and Juliette motioned for Fleur to walk forward. Fleur moved instantly. Juliette was immensely grateful for Fleur. She did not have much riding experience before her, but Fleur had always been patient and reacted instantly. She rarely ever was stubborn, but instead seemed eager to please. She was a wonderful companion; one she could trust without a second thought.

“_You are wonderful,_” Juliette said quietly to her as she patted her neck.

Truly, Juliette did not know what she would do without Fleur. She certainly would not have escaped the ranch hand without her, she was faster and more agile than most horses, and did not panic easy.

She heard the sound of a horse approaching behind her and looked back to see Arthur had caught up with Whiskey. She looked forward again, feeling a sense of melancholy settle over her. She could feel Arthur’s gaze on her, watching her with concern.

“I will be alright,” Juliette reassured. “I have been shot before.”

Arthur did not say anything, and Juliette regretted the coldness that had slipped into her tone. She could not stop herself from being reminded of Valentine. She did not want to forget it and she did not want him to forget it quickly either. He had done something horrible, something that could not be forgiven quickly.

They continued along in a heavy silence. It felt eerily familiar. She had moments like this with Edmond in the downfall of their relationship, when the rift between them had grown so great. It had surprised her how disconnected they were, how no words seemed to be able to repair it. With Arthur it took few words, easily she had wanted to trust him again, desperately she had wanted to believe him. She wanted to forgive him, to find someway to continue on.

In several ways, this was her fault. She had multiple warnings about Arthur. From Miguel, Daniel, and even Arthur himself. She had known he was an outlaw, known he had committed crimes, and yet here she was. Riding alongside him.

“Why are you a deputy?” Juliette finally asked.

“Not my choice, really,” Arthur said.

She frowned.

_ Didn’t have much choice. _

It was sounding more and more like an excuse each time she heard him say it. It annoyed her greatly, there was always a choice. It was easier to pretend there was only one path, to overlook everything else. It was an excuse she knew all too well. It made her skin crawl.

“Seems like a lot of your decisions are not your own,” Juliette said stiffly.

“I… well…” Arthur trailed off uneasily. “Reckon not.”

Juliette stared ahead at the path. She did not know where she was going. She was beginning to get used to this feeling, of being lost. At least now it was a choice… a poor one, but it was her own. She still did not know where this would end, any of it. Her focus for so long had been running as far as she could and now that she had… she was lost. There was no where else to run.

She behaved recklessly; Juliette was aware of that. It was why she struggled to write back to the people she cared for, she could not find the words to explain how she tempted fate. She had wandered further west than she had planned, found more trouble than she should have…

Even then, she did not regret engaging with Arthur. She did not like his decisions as of late, but she did not regret meeting him in the slightest… she only hoped that he had been honest with her. She wanted to believe him desperately, that he did not want to be a killer, but… his actions were hard to look past.

“And?” Juliette asked, careful to keep her tone flat and modulated.

Arthur looked over at her curiously.

“You did not explain why you are a deputy,” Juliette said.

“Yeah, well… we ran into the sheriff and some deputy and saw he had one of our men locked up.”

“John?” Juliette questioned.

His name tasted of bile to her. Already she did not like him.

“No,” Arthur said instantly. “Don’t know if Dutch could’ve talked the sheriff into letting John go. It was only Trelawny… he’s… well a fool, but a clever one. He was runnin’ some scam.”

Juliette nodded and the tension in her shoulders dissolved.

“Got himself caught and needed us to rescue him. We helped the sheriff out and well... one thing led to another and now I’mma deputy.”

Juliette considered this for a moment. 

“An outlaw and a deputy,” Juliette scoffed.

“Yeah, well… it ain’t exactly my preferred line of work,” Arthur said. “You met the sheriff, ain’t exactly someone respectable.”

Juliette was beginning to wonder if any sheriffs were. The few she had met had proved themselves distasteful.

“That feller, what exactly happened with him?” Arthur asked. “You seemed awfully surprised he wanted you dead.”

“Yes, well he does not have a great reason,” Juliette said bitterly. “He was the ranch hand to that bounty I helped Miguel and Daniel catch a while back.”

“Long time to hold a grudge,” Arthur commented.

Juliette nodded in agreement. It was a long time, long enough that she did not particularly understand it. He could not have been looking for her since then, it had been weeks. She was beginning to believe more and more it truly was just dumb luck.

“I think he did not plan on killing me until he saw me,” Juliette said slowly.

He had not shot at her until she was closer and even then, it seemed sudden, he had not been able to line up a shot to kill her. He could have atrocious aim, but they had been feet apart. If he had planned it… Juliette would probably not be alive.

“I suppose it was his lucky day,” Juliette murmured.

Her luck had gotten far worse recently. Everything had been perfect for so long, she had grown complacent, stopped listening to her doubts. 

“Don’t think so,” Arthur scoffed. “Ended up in jail like his partner.”

“That is true,” Juliette said slowly. A smile ghosted across her lips as she continued, “Thank you for that.”

“Don’t mention it,” Arthur said.

Eventually, Juliette found a good area to stop. She had broken off from the main path and followed a meadow until she found a small stream. It was not the perfect place to camp, it would be easy to attack, but it would do for now. She brought Fleur to a stop close to the stream and found herself dreading getting down from Fleur. Before she had some adrenaline running through her to lessen the pain, but now she felt it with every fiber of her being. She hated how much it did hurt, she wanted to be able to push past it. She knew she had felt worse pain before, but right then it did not particularly matter. All that mattered was the stinging she felt that threatened to consume her.

Even as she merely shifted in the saddle, it burned fiercely. Her shirt had been caked to it with blood, but by moving she tore it off, causing her wound to burn angrily.

“Does it ever get easier?” Juliette asked, her voice uneven as she tried to ignore the pain coursing through her.

“What?” Arthur asked uncertainly.

“Being shot,” Juliette managed. 

He considered this for a moment, giving her time to grip her wound. Warm blood fell against her hand, sticking to it.

“Not really,” Arthur admitted. “Always hurts.”

That was not very reassuring. She hoped to never be shot again, but she did not have much say in that. That had more than been proven to her already.

“This a good spot?” Arthur asked.

“I think so,” Juliette said. “I do not know this area well enough.”

“Neither do I,” Arthur said. “Ain’t been this far south in a long while.”

Juliette sighed, readying herself to dismount.

“Hold on a moment,” Arthur said.

Juliette looked over at him quizzically. He dismounted Whiskey and walked over towards her. He offered her a hand and Juliette smiled slightly.

“Quite the gentleman,” Juliette commented.

“Yeah, well…” Arthur trailed off for a moment. “Tryin’ to be.”

Juliette accepted his hand. She leaned against him more than she wanted to, but with his help managed to get down easy enough. As her feet settled against the ground, she did not feel the same pain as she had before. That much was a relief, she was not sure how much more she could handle. Juliette was no stranger to pain, but she was growing weary.

She did not move right away, but instead remained close to him. His hand was warm in his, his skin rough and calloused. She wanted to move closer to him, until there was no space between then. But she did not. Instead she stared at him uncertainly, feeling a strange mixture of emotions. Concern lingered in his eyes as he stared down at her.

“Alright?” he asked, his voice a quiet murmur.

“Yes,” Juliette said.

Her heart tightened in her chest, a strange sadness washing across her.

“C’mon,” Arthur said gently.

He guided her over towards a flat rock, still keeping a steadying arm around her. She did not like being seen this weak, but she was grateful for his help. He was quite possibly the only person whose company she would accept then. She was not sure how she felt about this fact, but decided it was not an issue she had the energy to consider.

Juliette carefully sat down slow enough to not worsen her wounds. Once she was settled, Arthur walked back to the horses. She sighed and looked down at her blood-stained hand. She found herself imagining a letter she could write back. _Dear Edmond, Today I was shot by a ranch hand. _

She smiled bitterly, irritation flashing through her. Too often she found herself imagining writing to Edmond, but never found the strength to follow through. There was no way for her to know how much of what she wrote would remain in private, he still trusted them. A long time ago he had been her confidant, but now he was just another name on the list of people she could not trust. The few letters she did write back were short and gave away no information. Even her letters to Marie, her only sister, were brief. Perhaps it was for the better, if she told either of them about her escapades they would only worry.

Juliette looked up as she heard Arthur approach again. He was carrying more supplies and a bottle of whiskey.

“Early to drink, is it not?” Juliette mused.

“Never too early,” Arthur corrected with a chuckle. “It ain’t for drinkin’ anyway. Should clean out the wound.”

“Does that work?” Juliette asked, disbelief sliding into her voice.

“Dunno,” Arthur admitted. “Reckon it does, seems to work just fine.”

“Alright,” Juliette decided.

It was not like there was a doctor anywhere nearby, she would have to trust his outlandish methods. He was still alive, his medical knowledge had to have _some _semblance of truth. As she thought that, she noticed Arthur pull out his hunting knife from its sheathe. Juliette’s smile fell as she felt sick.

Juliette looked away as he cut the bandages free.

“Might hurt,” Arthur warned.

He was trying to be gentle, but even the slightest touch caused pain to flicker through her.

“Removed a lot of bullets?” Juliette asked, her voice sounding faint.

“Too many.”

At the very least, he was experienced. This was not something she particularly wanted him to be well versed in, but… he was an outlaw. He had to have helped patch up his gang more than once.

Arthur was careful while removing the bullet, but even he couldn’t avoid nudging the edges of the fresh wound. Juliette balled her hand into a fist, gripping onto her deep maroon skirt. That at least was a benefit, her skirt would not stain easy…

“How bad is it?” Juliette asked.

“Not terrible,” Arthur reassured. “Seen plenty worse. Grateful it weren’t a shotgun.”

“I suppose so,” Juliette agreed through gritted teeth.

She closed her eyes as she felt the cool metal of the knife.

“How bad are shotgun wounds?” Juliette asked, desperate for anything to keep her mind busy.

“Once had to cauterize a wound from it,” Arthur began. His voice was focused and even, calming Juliette’s nerves. “Poor bastard got it point blank to his leg. Nasty scar from it still.”

“How did you cauterize it?” Juliette managed.

“Gun powder,” Arthur said simply.

Juliette considered this, a wave of nausea crossing her at the thought. She set a hand on Arthur’s shoulder to steady herself. She was afraid of moving too much, she certainly did not want him to cut her. She trusted him plenty, but she was not the greatest patient.

“Lovely.”

“He’s ali-,” Arthur stopped himself and hesitated a moment, before continuing. “He survived. It ain’t pretty, but… had to stop the bleedin’.”

Juliette bit her lip as she felt the bullet shift in her wound, digging painfully.

“Damn,” Juliette whispered.

“Sorry,” Arthur murmured.

“Don’t be,” Juliette said quietly. “You are doing me a favor.”

Arthur didn’t say anything. Juliette opened her eyes for a moment to look at him. A dark look washed over him, his eyes were narrowed on her wound. Juliette sighed.

“Is he dead?” Juliette asked.

“Who?”

“The man you helped,” Juliette explained.

Arthur was quiet for a moment and Juliette regretted asking. She knew his answer before he spoke.

“Yeah.”

They fell silent as Arthur focused. She knew what would happen next and tried to prepare herself. There was no amount of preparation that would help her. As soon as he tugged the bullet out, she winced as a fresh wave of pain crashed into her. She knew he was being as gentle as he could be, but unfortunately there was not much he could do to alleviate it. She had known it would hurt, but could not fathom it would be this bad.

Her hand on Arthur’s shoulder tightened as she kept herself steady against him. The ground seemed to quake under her for a moment as her head spun. 

“Sorry,” Arthur said.

“Do not be,” Juliette said. “You are helping me.”

“Wish I coulda been there,” Arthur muttered.

After a moment she managed to look at him as the world came to a halt again. She looked at him in confusion, uncertain what he had meant.

“When you got shot… coulda done somethin’,” Arthur continued.

“I am sure you were busy with your new responsibilities as deputy,” Juliette said. She was unable to stop the cold from crawling into her voice.

His shoulders slumped and Juliette felt regret claw at her. She had known it was a cutting thing to say, but she was angry. Mostly at herself. She knew what Arthur had done, what he could do, yet here she was. The more time she spent with him, the harder it became to let him go. She hoped to not have to, but…

“Like I said… ain’t my preferred occupation,” Arthur mumbled.

“No, you prefer to rob people?”

“Sometimes,” Arthur said. “I ain’t proud of it.”

Juliette stared at the ground for a moment.

“I am sorry,” Juliette sighed. “I should not antagonize you… after all you have done for me.”

She did not know how she expected him to react or even how she wanted him to react. He was not someone he wanted to make an enemy of, but it would be far easier if she could hate him. 

“Got you shot at,” Arthur said. “I deserve it.”

Juliette was quiet for a moment, mulling this over.

Was that why he thought she was mad? Because _she _had been shot at? Juliette knew if she had not been there, things would have been different. He would not have told her; Miguel or Daniel would have had to. As terrible as it was, it was better she had witnessed it. Seen the harm he could cause with her own eyes. She knew just hearing it would not be the same, she would have certainly made excuses.

She found herself wanting to ask if his kills haunted him as they did her but found herself scared of the answer. Desperately Juliette wanted to hide away from the truth, pretend it was a horrible misunderstanding, but she could not. She could not forget his eyes then, the eyes of a killer. Heartless and relentless, akin to a beast. That was not the man she had grown to care for, it was someone different entirely. She remembered watching as his expression shifted to someone she recognized, his gaze gentle. 

She wondered if she had ever looked like that. Juliette was nearly certain she had, unknowing at the time to her own bloodlust. Now she was painfully aware of it, unable to recount how many lives she had ruined.

_ What does it matter? _

Edmond’s words rang in her mind painfully. He did not understand, he had not been there as she had uncovered the ugly truth. Her words had fallen on deaf ears, he was unable to see past the façade they lived under.

Juliette glanced back to Arthur, studying him, searching for any sign of remorse. She could see it then as he stared at the ground his gaze distant, a look that made it clear many things haunted him still. This reassured her, relaxed her, he understood. At the very least, the kills had meant something to him. They were not forgotten, their lives meaningless, their graves empty.

After a moment, Arthur helped her dress the wound. He cleaned it with whiskey and Juliette did not argue. This was an area Juliette had little to no expertise on, to her own chagrin. It was clear through her own attempt to care for the wound, her excuse of being in a hurry remained, but in truth she knew she was not good at this. She found he did a much better job than she could, her hands were shaking while his remained firm. He wrapped it tighter than she could have at that moment.

After it was tended to, Arthur set up a campfire. Juliette had moved to help but had instantly been told to not move. She knew he was right, that was partially why it was so bad, she had not been able to rest after. That did not stop her from feeling useless as he worked. It was a feeling Juliette was unused to and despised.

It did not take him long to get a fire going. Once it was finished, they were left with an uncomfortable silence. Neither of them could quite find the words to fill the quiet. He reminded her of a dog then. His head was bowed as he sat near her, well aware of the mistake he had made. She once had a dog as a child, it would do the same. Make a mistake knowing it was wrong and act guilty, with sad eyes. Lingering around her heels pitifully sulking, not asking for forgiveness, but not leaving her side.

Truthfully, Juliette wanted to forgive him. Some part of her desperately wanted move on, but she knew she could not simply forget. She did not want to. She did not want him to forget either, for him to simply do it again and sulk the same after. This was not something that could be forgiven so easily, he had killed innocent people on command.

Her gaze slid back to him, studying him slowly. His eyes were on the fire, a deep sadness lingering in them. Slowly she looked down to the badge gleaming on his chest, reflecting the fire light. She looked back at the fire, sighing.

“How do you think this will end?” Juliette asked, her voice flat.

Arthur looked up at her uneasily.

“Dunno,” Arthur admitted. “I ain’t…”

“Do you think your gang can run far enough?”

“Don’t seem like it no more, we’re runnin’ out of land,” Arthur muttered.

“What is the plan then?”

“Don’t have one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was a lot of fun to write i'll be honest  
juliette being angry and mean is my favorite thing to write?? i'm excited for you guys to read her interacting with john bc spoilers she hates him which you can see the start of that hatred in this bc in her mind she associates john with valentine even before she's met him   
i also really like having juliette call arthur out on his shit bc let's be real he's done some real bad stuff without thinking. love the man so much but he's got some stuff he has to own up to and he does in rdr2 just way too late which is why i really wished he could've had an earlier redemption and ended up good bc like the theme of rdr2 of redemption in death kinda sucks for arthur bc it makes it seem like he never was a "good man" (even john questions it) but he was   
sorry for the rant i have a lot of emotions still c':   
but anyway i hope you guys liked it as much as i liked writing it!! i have some fun ideas for the next set of chapters that are more light hearted :D


	14. Swallowed Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so it's been a hot minute... sorry about that !  
honestly i'm always thinking about this fic bc i'm way too obsessed with my own au but you know whatever. but when I checked the last update for this and it was a month i was so surprised???   
but i'm glad to be back!! thanks to anyone that came back c": i appreciate it a lot!!   
anyways I have the next set of chapters planned out until the next major event (low key curious if anyone can guess what it is, it is an in game event/mission) and i'm excited for it! there'll be a new character that i like and arthur will hate so i'm looking forward to that :'3

Arthur stayed with Juliette for a while. They watched as the sun drifted down to the horizon until it barely peeked over. He kept glancing up at Juliette, unable to stop himself. He felt a strange need to fill the silence, a feeling he frankly wasn’t used to. Most of times Arthur preferred silence, he was used to being surrounded by idiots that spoke too loud and too often. Now he wanted to find some magical words to say, something to alleviate the guilt he felt gnawing away at him slowly. If he were being honest, he wasn’t sure he’d have cared much about Valentine if not for Juliette. Sure, it was an awful shame people got caught in the middle, but life out here wasn’t ever easy… didn’t mean they should be part of the problem. Long time ago, they thought they were fighting for townsfolk like the ones they’d shot. Helpin’ the little guy… whatever the hell that meant.

He let out a heavy breath. He looked back to Juliette. Her eyes were settled on the fire, they looked nearly yellow in the light, while her hair shined golden. She seemed tired, looking at something he couldn’t see, her posture slumped. It was better than the last time they’d sat together, then she had looked defeated. It hurt something fierce to see her like that, knowing it was his fault.

He wondered what she had expected coming out here. She had spoken almost like she’d expected to die a long time ago. It was a grim fate to leave a life of luxury to die in an untamed land. Plenty of people did it out of stupidity, but he knew she was smarter than that.

“Why’d you come out here?” Arthur asked.

Juliette looked over at him briefly, a fog lifting from her eyes. She stared at him, waiting patiently for him to elaborate.

Obediently, he continued, “I just mean… people ain’t great out here… gets worse with each town, it feels like… coulda gone to New York or somewhere more…” he took a moment to find the right word, but she didn’t interrupt. Instead she waited, her gaze on him. He couldn’t figure out the right word he wanted but settled with, “Civilized.”

Juliette smiled bitterly as she looked back at the fire.

“People are not great there either,” Juliette said. “Perception of civility is very fickle; I am not sure I entirely agree with how most people define it.”

“That so?” Arthur asked, not certain he was following.

Often times he felt like he didn’t fully understand what she was saying, she reminded him a lot of Hosea in that way. Both were a lot wiser than him, seemed to catch onto things a lot faster than he did. Hosea had known they were in trouble long before Arthur did, he knew something was off. They’d been running for a long time, but this was different. They had Pinkertons chasing them and they couldn’t shake them.

Hosea would like Juliette. Somehow, she caught onto the severity of the gang’s situation before he had. He still didn’t rightfully have an answer to a lot of her questions, even hours after. He was sure Dutch would have an answer, somethin’ long winded. That was how Dutch liked to respond to things, with a lot of words with empty meanings. He was beginning to realize that finally, a lot of what Dutch said didn’t mean much. Only quieted Hosea’s questioning long enough for Dutch to make a real plan.

“I don’t know anymore,” Juliette said, tiredness settling into her voice. “If I am honest… I never had a true plan. I boarded a train in New York, hoping one of the stops along the way would attract my interest. I suppose I was looking for some sort of sign from… a higher power.”

Arthur had never been particularly religious. He’d heard a lot of talk and been to church before, but none of it settled right with him. He’d been too busy raising hell to consider heaven. Now, he’d gone to far to look back. Once he was buried, that’d be it. His soul didn’t deserve anything good, not with all the blood that stained his hands.

“Find it?” Arthur asked after a moment.

Juliette’s gaze had drifted away from him but returned as he spoke. Slowly she shook her head with a faint smile.

“I rode the train until I could go no farther,” Juliette said. “Then… I bought a horse.”

Arthur smiled and let out a soft short chuckle.

“Ended up out here?” Arthur asked.

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering in the fire light.

“After I followed an outlaw, yes,” Juliette said with a coy smile.

“Regret it?” Arthur asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

Her reply was instant, catching him off guard.

“Not at all.”

“How’s that?” Arthur asked. “Got you shot at.”

“As did the bounty hunters,” Juliette said.

He watched her as her gaze drifted back to the fire. Her smile had fell, leaving her expression somber once more. Arthur let out a heavy breath and Juliette looked back to him.

“Got a strange taste in company,” Arthur said after a moment.

“Who does not?” Juliette asked.

Arthur stared at her for a moment, but she offered no explanation. Instead she watched him, a slow smile ghosting her lips once more. The corners of his own lips turned up as he shook his head. She wasn’t going to make it easy on him.

“What does that mean?” he asked, finally caving.

Her smile grew ever so slightly. 

“I don’t know,” Juliette said.

Arthur chuckled.

“You chose me just as much as I chose you,” Juliette reasoned.

Arthur shook his head.

“That’s not the same,” Arthur said.

Juliette was someone proper, even if she had done somethin' bad. She was smart and frankly beautiful. He was an outlaw, it sure as hell wasn't the same. She put up with a lot more, overlooked his blood stained hands. He still wasn't sure if he was doing her an injustice by hanging around, but... he couldn't walk away easy. He found himself thinking about her far too often, looking for her when he was traveling. 

“Is it not?” Juliette asked. “I do not see you as someone with the patience to deal with people similar to me.”

“You ain’t entirely wrong,” Arthur admitted.

There were a lot of rich folks Arthur couldn’t rightly stand. Opened their mouths and instantly Arthur wanted to hit them, remind them they could bleed all the same. Yet there was usually a lot of pride on their part, a look in their eyes that reminded Arthur of who he was. An outlaw covered in dust, dirt, and blood. Underbelly of society.

“I reckon you had a lot more reason to avoid me,” Arthur muttered. “I ain’t exactly…”

“You could be far worse,” Juliette said. “We used to entertain murderers at galas, it was regular. They would be guests of honor, even. I knew you were not someone… reputable.”

“Still kept me around?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” Juliette said. “You are not someone I could cast away easily.”

“That so?” Arthur asked. His smile was small, but her words had a great effect on him. He could feel the weight lift from his shoulders, a warm and soft feeling settling in his chest.

“I am afraid so.”

As the light began to fade, Juliette stood up. Arthur slowly got to his feet as well, watching as she walked over to Fleur. Arthur followed her, surveying their surroundings once more. They were far enough from the paths that no one should easily wander over. It was an open area, but no one should be hunting for either of them. Somehow even with this reasoning, Arthur didn’t feel particularly comfortable leaving her out here.

“Shouldn’t move much,” Arthur said.

“I have already moved plenty today, I am sure it cannot get much worse,” Juliette replied shortly. 

“I got plenty experience with cocky bastards killin’ themselves from the smallest bullet wounds,” Arthur returned readily. 

Juliette paused and Arthur froze for a moment, realizing too late what he’d said. He stood still waiting for a reaction, but Juliette only smiled. She glanced back at him, amusement glinting in her eyes brightly. 

“Calling me cocky?” Juliette asked. “Maybe you are right.”

It was definitely a bait, but she didn’t sound mad. She sounded the opposite of mad, somehow. Arthur couldn’t rightfully understand how insulting someone wouldn’t result in them getting mad. Juliette certainly didn’t seem the type to take it lying down.

“I ain’t diggin’ my hole any deeper,” Arthur chuckled.

Juliette’s smile grew.

“What a shame,” Juliette said. “I wanted to hear where you were going with that.”

“Let me do that,” Arthur said as Juliette began to unpack.

He walked over to her, taking the canvas material from her. His hand grazed against hers briefly, a fact he was all to aware of. Juliette protested, but ultimately relinquished the tent to him. It took more negotiation, but after a minute he managed to convince her to sit down. He wasn’t keen on her dying anytime soon, especially not while he was around.

It didn’t take all that long to set up a small camp, it was far easier than setting up the gang’s camp. That’d taken nearly a full day itself, hours of mindless work. Most times Arthur preferred that sort of work, something he could throw himself into to keep himself busy. Unfortunately, that had been one of the worst days for it, without his thoughts occupied he kept thinking about everything that had happened. Running through everything that had happened in Valentine relentlessly.

“Ain’t so bad relaxin’, ain’t it?” Arthur asked as he studied his handiwork.

The tent she had wasn’t all that different from the one he kept with Whiskey. It was durable, could handle a downpour.

“You are a hypocrite, Arthur,” Juliette said.

“Why d’you say that?” Arthur asked, thoroughly perplexed.

“You do not seem the type of man to know how to relax,” Juliette said. “Not without getting black out drunk, of course.”

Arthur didn’t out right agree, but instead let out a small huff. She wasn’t far off, but he was unwilling to say it aloud. There was always work to do around camp, he wasn’t lazing about. They had plenty of men that did that already, Uncle being the laziest of the group. Arthur wasn’t sure why they kept him around still. Pearson and Hosea liked him, for some unknown reason. Arthur only liked the bastard for his courage, but he was pretty sure most of it came from alcohol. A few times Arthur suspected he was smarter than he gave him credit for, then the fool would fall over.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Juliette said.

Arthur nodded, studying Juliette with a slight frown. She had a hand placed over the wound on her torso. Had to hurt, he knew it did. She took it well, hadn’t complained once about it. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, he was beginning to wonder if she’d die without complaint too. Some wounds needed more of a fuss than either, he knew that well.

“’Course,” Arthur said quietly.

A question pressed at the front of his mind, perched on the edge of his tongue. Somehow, he couldn’t quite force the words out, but instead held onto them with bated breath.

“What is it?” Juliette asked.

Arthur hesitated a moment, before finally gathering some courage.

“Mind if I hang around? I know you think he just stumbled upon you but…” Arthur trailed off.

He knew it sounded stupid to think there was some big conspiracy behind it, but this was a big country. Plenty of land to roam. They weren’t really all that close to Valentine neither, Arthur wasn’t sure what a farmhand had to do down here. He knew it was unlikely she’d been followed, but he didn’t want to leave and her get shot again.

“Do you have the time?” Juliette asked.

“The time?” Arthur repeated.

“I just mean… surely they must be waiting for you,” Juliette said.

Her voice was quieter than it had been, a trace of sadness lingering in her tone.

“Reckon they’ll wait,” Arthur said.

“You are welcome to stay,” Juliette said.

Arthur nodded and walked back to the horses. He began to tend to them, starting with Fleur. Whiskey seemed content with this, usually it didn’t take much to rile him up. Arthur usually had to keep him tied to a hitching post, he didn’t get along well with most of the other horses. Somehow, he was fine with Fleur. Her calm nature relaxed him.

He liked taking care of horses, it was cathartic. They were creatures he understood well. He’d spent a lot of time with Whiskey since he’d first gotten him, he was a constant. Sure as the sun rising each morning, Whiskey would be around. It had taken him a long while to move on from Boadicea, she’d been a loyal companion to him for years. Whiskey was proving himself just as loyal and far more stubborn than she ever had been.

Fleur barely reacted to Arthur being around her. She wasn’t as anxious as many horses he’d met; she didn’t stomp her hooves at strangers approaching. A well-trained horse was hard to find in most stables, lot of horses were the same as Whiskey. Wrangled wild and tamed in the same day.

“Where d’you get her?” Arthur asked.

“Thinking of trading Whiskey?” Juliette mused.

Whiskey raised his head at his name and stared at Juliette for a moment, before returning to grazing.

“Nah,” Arthur said. “He’s a good horse. Just curious is all.”

“Saint Denis,” Juliette supplied.

“That’s the big city, ain’t it?” Arthur asked.

He brushed Fleur’s shoulder carefully, getting rid of all the dust. Her pelt was a beautiful oat color with caramel dapples towards her back. The white around her hooves looked perfectly even, unlike Whiskey’s. She was a good horse.

“I would not call it big,” Juliette said. “It is _trying _to be big.”

She sounded strangely annoyed by it, as if the city itself irritated her.

“Now what does that mean?” Arthur asked.

“The mayor of Saint Denis is doing the same as Strawberry,” Juliette explained. “Pretending it is a city that it is not to trick investors. It has survived longer than I anticipated, but that is because of the company the mayor keeps.”

“Know him?” Arthur asked.

“The mayor?”

Arthur nodded.

“No, not personally,” Juliette said. “He is from France, but I never did business with him. He sent several letters to my family and to our adversaries. He wants to start a war over Saint Denis, create competition.”

“Why would he do that?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

Wars weren’t something to start lightly, reigniting rivalries was dangerous. They’d experienced that plenty with the O’Driscolls, gotten shot at by them to often for Arthur’s liking. It was a feud he wasn’t sure would die easy, seemed like something Dutch would take to his grave. Arthur understood why Dutch couldn’t forgive Colm, but it was more than that. They had a gang to worry about, personal rivalries didn’t need to endanger them.

“To get more interest,” Juliette said, distaste burning in her words. “It seems to be working.”

“That a common tactic?” Arthur asked.

Rightfully, he didn’t know. Most times he was the one burning cities to the ground, he wasn’t someone to notice what was happening behind the curtains. Hosea chastised him for it and Arthur knew he was right. Information was powerful, but Arthur couldn’t be bothered. He didn’t have the patience to listen to high society folk.

“It is a plague,” Juliette said. “The mayor does not understand who is he invited into his city. He might as well have sold his soul to the devil.”

“That bad?”

“There are people who burn others out of fear, and those who do it for pleasure.”

Arthur considered this for a moment, a chill traveling across his skin. He wondered which one he was, which he had been. It was a nasty thought, but he hadn’t always killed out of necessity. There had been duels, moments when he’d taken pride in killing someone. He’d reveled in the silence that fell over a crowd, the whispers that followed him as he left. He’d thought it to be admiration, but now he knew all to well it was fear. People weren’t impressed by duels, and if they were, they were people like him. Killers.

As the final sunlight began to fade, Arthur finished tending to the horses. He walked back towards the campfire, hooking his thumbs through the loops of his belt.

“Should get some rest,” Arthur said.

Juliette looked back at him briefly, before her gaze fell. She didn’t answer him, but instead remained quiet.

“Jules?” Arthur asked gently.

“Alright,” Juliette agreed.

She did not move. Arthur walked towards her, small twigs snapping under his boots. Juliette looked up again with a slow smile.

“You are persistent,” Juliette said.

“I ain’t keen on you dyin’,” Arthur said.

“Is that so?” Juliette asked.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. Juliette waited patiently for his response, and Arthur answered obediently, “I’m afraid so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> low key "that so" "afraid so" is going to be a reoccurring line so I hope you guys like it! if you hate it let me know and I'll try and fix it up next time ! hope you guys enjoyed this short chapter <3


	15. From Diamonds to Copper

It had taken her a considerable amount of time to recover from her wounds. It took longer than the wound from Valentine and hurt far more. She knew it made sense that it would take more time, it was more than a graze wound. It still deeply annoyed her; she did not enjoy feeling weak.

The second day was the most difficult. Somehow the pain intensified, shredding through her thoughts. Juliette struggled to move at first, but after a few minutes managed to sit up. The pain worsened, but she had braced herself for it.

“_To think I chose this,_” Juliette muttered irritably in French.

It was not a choice she _regretted, _but… she could have chosen better. Was the thrill of bounty hunting truly worth being shot? It had paid adequately, not enough that she would do it again. Of course, she supposed it got easier, she had not seen Miguel and Daniel wounded from a bounty yet. Even still, it was not a practice Juliette was willing to devote more time to. She had her fun with it, but she vowed never again.

Slowly and carefully Juliette prepared for the day, starting by checking the bandages. Red blossomed through the cotton, undoubtedly worsened by her movement. She unwrapped the bandages, the pain somehow worsening with every piece that was unfurled.

Arthur’s voice sounded outside of the tent, “Jules?”

“Yes?” Juliette asked, her voice strained.

“Alright if I come in?” he asked.

“Yes,” Juliette said.

Light fell across the floor briefly as he walked in. Juliette looked up at him and watched as he blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light. She could not help but smile and he returned it.

“How long have you been awake?” Juliette asked.

He shrugged noncommittally, but gave an answer under Juliette’s questioning gaze.

“Not long.”

Somehow, she did not believe him.

He approached her slowly, his gaze settling on her wound.

“How does it hurt more?” Juliette asked with a small sigh.

“Next day’s always the worst,” Arthur muttered.

He took his hat off and kneeled down in front of her, his eyes narrowed in concentration. This was not quite how Juliette expected things to go. She certainly had not expected to wake up and have Arthur waiting to make sure she had survived the night, but evidently this was where she ended up.

Juliette was not sure how she felt about how good he was at this. She knew it made sense, he was in a gang of outlaws, they all must have been shot. He had to have learned how to tend to gunshot wounds, cared for them more than she would care to know.

He finished removing the bandage and examined the wound, his fingers delicately touching her skin. Despite his feather light touch, she could still feel how rough his skin was, calloused from work undoubtedly.

Juliette did not particularly like that he had seen her bare midriff multiple occasions now, but her other option was to hope her own care was up to the task. She trusted Arthur’s care more than her own and was grateful for his help. He was one of the few people she would allow near her in a state like this, most others she would cast away. Edmond was on the list of those she would not allow, something that made it all the clearer why their engagement ended broken.

After Arthur had helped her care for the wound, he left her alone to finish getting ready. Juliette did not follow through with everything she normally would, she simply did not have the energy for it. She left her hair in a braid instead of putting up, and only changed into a new shirt. She would have left the shirt alone, if only it didn’t have new tears and bloodstains. That was not something she knew how to mend… but she would learn. The cost of garments was something that had once been frivolous to her, but now it added up. It was strange how it altered her world view, suddenly everything seemed far more real. Injuries hurt more, money did not go as far, people were unruly, but somehow it was better. There was an indistinguishable quality to it, suddenly her actions felt important, her words more permanent. Everything that happened before simply felt like a distant dream she had not been able to wake up from.

Juliette took in a deep breath, before mustering the strength to leave the tent. Somehow, she found herself relieved to see Arthur still around. She glanced around the camp to see Whiskey and Fleur not far away. Fleur looked up at her for a moment, before returning to grazing.

“Want some coffee?” Arthur asked.

“Sure,” Juliette agreed.

She walked over to him, a hand holding her side. A fire was already crackling, twigs and sticks stacked beside it for kindling.

“Not long?” Juliette asked.

Arthur glanced up at her in confusion, before the realization hit him.

“Right, well…” Arthur said.

“I had a feeling,” Juliette admitted. “You look tired.”

“Always look tired,” Arthur argued.

“Not always,” Juliette returned.

There had been times when he did look tired. Juliette could remember some of the days they had spent together, the quieter ones. They had stayed under the shade of a large oak tree, sitting by each other. Many of those quiet days Arthur had rested, pulling his hat down over his face as he leaned back against the trunk of the tree. Juliette still believed he needed more days like those, with nothing to do other than to relax and enjoy the day.

She settled beside him on the rock, pain flickering through her as she did. She grimaced for a moment, her grip on her side tightening.

“Alright?” Arthur murmured.

“I will be,” Juliette said. She took a moment to recover, before continuing dryly, “what a fun morning this must be for you.”

“Had plenty far worse,” Arthur reassured. “Pretty nice not waking up to yellin’, for once. ‘Course… wish it were under better circumstances.”

He held out a metal mug to her and Juliette glanced down at it. Dark liquid sloshed in it, leaving a brown ring of residue as it fell back. Coffee. He had offered her coffee. It had barely been more than two minutes and she had forgotten. That could not be a good sign.

Juliette accepted it, holding it between her hands. It was warm, must have been freshly brewed recently.

“Wake up to yelling often?” Juliette asked.

She took a drink from the mug, the edge was cold against her lips, but the coffee was warm and bitter. It woke her up more, made her eyes feel less heavy. It had been a while since she had last had coffee, she much preferred tea, but that morning it felt like a godsend.

Juliette stared at the rim of the mug for a second, realizing it was foreign to her. This had to be Arthur’s. This was his mug. How many mornings had he spent with it in hand? How many drinks had he had from it; his lips pressed against the brim?

She was suddenly very thankful her thoughts were her own, unable to be heard by anyone. Juliette took a small drink again, color rising in her cheeks.

“Too much,” he said unaware to where her mind had drifted. “Lotta folks used to doin’ things their own way, y’know how it is.”

“I suppose,” Juliette agreed.

She always found herself wanting to ask more about his life, hear what it was like for him, but she knew she should not. There was a line, whether she liked it or not. The blurrier it got the more dangerous it was, she was well aware of that fact. It was something she had to remind herself often.

Juliette realized suddenly what had been missing. She looked up and around with a frown.

“What?” Arthur asked uncertainly.

He too looked around, scanning the area for any possible threat. He found none and his gaze returned to her.

“Where did you sleep?” Juliette asked.

There was not a second tent set up, nor any sign of bedding. She knew he had all of that, she had seen the rolled-up bedroll on his saddle.

Arthur shrugged unhelpfully. She stared at him for a moment, perplexed.

“Did you sleep?” Juliette asked.

He didn’t answer her.

“Arthur,” Juliette said sharply. “You-“

“I slept some,” Arthur reassured.

Juliette was not sure she believed him.

“I ain’t exactly unused to it,” Arthur said. “Used to stay up on guard for the camp all the time.”

“Used to?” Juliette repeated, unable to stop herself.

Arthur smiled slightly, unbothered by her question. Juliette was grateful he was willing to answer her questions, she tried to not press for many details, but questions slipped. He was patient and honest, something she appreciated deeply.

‘Yeah, used to,” Arthur chuckled. “Don’t get drafted for that often no more.”

“No?”

“Nah,” Arthur agreed. “Reckon I’m not in camp enough.”

Juliette considered this. Not in camp enough. Juliette wondered what he found himself distracted by most days if he was not in camp. As if sensing her question, Arthur spoke.

“Guess I’ve been hangin’ ‘round you a lot more than I probably should,” Arthur said.

Juliette looked up at him immediately. He had been waiting for her reaction, he was watching her closely.

“Is that so?” Juliette asked.

“Afraid so.”

~*~

They spent the next few days similarly while Juliette recovered from her wounds. Arthur hung around for a while, leaving to hunt, but mostly remaining by her side. Being shot was far from a good thing, but… she was not wondering if Arthur was shooting up a town. She liked having him around far too much. Too quickly, she forgot her worries. Her wounds healed slower than she anticipated, but she supposed it made sense. How easily could it heal? It could not heal overnight, as much as she wished it to be.

Eventually it all came to an end. Her wound healed well enough that movement did not open it, and she knew it was time. Arthur had to go back to his gang, she knew he did. Juliette wondered if they were already worried about him. It had been nearly a week.

She had restrained herself from asking for too much information, but she had asked if they would worry, he had not returned. He answered simply, “been gone longer.” That of course brought up more questions than it answered, but she did not want to pry deeper. Juliette was uncertain if it was something, she even wanted to know yet. 

Juliette was stuck between wanting to know everything and wanting to pretend things had not changed. If she asked more about him being an outlaw in a gang, it became more real. Unbearably real. She had never been taught how to handle this; everything was completely new. She did not like shades of gray, but each day she saw more.

When they finally did go their separate ways, Juliette found herself reliving simple moments. Late nights with a warm flickering fire in front of them, lazy afternoons when Arthur finally did rest, and early mornings when the birds would chirp and dart overhead.

She found herself imagining what life could be. Early mornings without injury, nights without the separation. It was a dangerous thought, but it lingered painfully. It kept her distracted, distracted enough she did not see two figures riding towards her.

“Juliette!” A familiar voice called, sharply ringing in her ears.

“Miguel,” Juliette greeted.

It had been a while since she had last seen him, she had forgotten how loudly he spoke. Juliette had been riding Fleur down a path heading north east, having been gone from Arthur for mere hours. She looked up to see both Daniel and Miguel.

“Alright?” Daniel asked. “Been a minute.”

“It has,” Juliette agreed.

Miguel watched closely and Juliette had a strange feeling as if he could see right through her.

“Deal with your outlaw?” Miguel questioned.

She was surprised how outright he was, but… she supposed it was warranted. They were in Valentine when everything it happened; they knew firsthand what he was capable of.

She brought Fleur to a halt as they reached each other on the path. Juliette looked around for a moment, letting her gaze wander. She wondered if Arthur had returned to his gang already or if he had gone elsewhere. She hoped wherever he was, he was resting. She was willing to bet he had not had a full night’s sleep in months, maybe years.

“Well?” Miguel asked impatiently.

“No,” Juliette admitted.

Daniel frowned at her and Miguel shook his head. She knew why they wanted her to cut ties, she understood it. There was a lot about Arthur that should mean she should avoid him. On paper he was a terrible person… and maybe in truth he was in reality as well, but there was something about him. His eyes were kind when he looked at her, his smile gentle. He had helped her when he did not know her, watched over as she was wounded… how could she just walk away?

Looking for a distraction, Juliette asked, “Where are you both off to?”

“Lookin’ for a new bounty,” Daniel answered. “Haven’t seen any posters lately.”

Juliette nodded. She had not been in a town since Rhodes, but she did not see many bounty posters up. Not that she had much time to look, she had been bleeding out then.

“Where you headin’?” Daniel questioned.

She knew the real question he wanted to ask, _to see Arthur? _

“I am unsure,” Juliette said. “I need some supplies, but I do not want to go to Rhodes.”

She would not be a patron to that general store unless forced, the man was horrid. In another life, she would have ruined him for scorning her. Now all she wanted to do was avoid him.

“Only thing down this way is Emerald Ranch,” Miguel said. “Nothin’ fun ‘round those parts.”

Emerald Ranch, that did sound familiar. There was a field north of it that was said to have wild horses pass through it, it would not be a bad spot to try her hand at photography again. Too much time had passed since her last attempt, she was worried she had forgotten how to work a camera. Not that she even knew to begin with.

“I am only going to pass through,” Juliette explained. “It was nice running into you-“

“Mind if we travel with you a ways?” Daniel asked.

Juliette stared at him for a moment, searching his expression for any clue as to why. Finally, Juliette relented.

“Sure,” Juliette said.

She guided Fleur into a walk while they both turned around to travel with her. It did not take long for the conversation to return to what she had expected.

“Tell me, Juliette, is it worth it?” Miguel asked. “He is not bad looking, I’ll give you that, but what else is there?”

Juliette did not respond immediately but took a moment to think. There was no point explaining why she enjoyed his company to them. It was not something easily understood, how could she describe how he looked at her? How it made her feel strangely alive?

“How long have you known Arthur?” Juliette asked. “You act like you are well acquainted with him.”

How easily could he judge someone he’d only seen posters of? Heard rumors of his crimes? Valentine had happened, towns before that, but it was not caused by him. His sin were caused by protecting his gang, something he must have done for years, long enough for it to be second nature. He was not a hardened outlaw that only wanted to see the world burn, she _knew _that. That was the only thing that mattered to her then, he had potential to be better.

Miguel shrugged.

“Not long, heard of him before I met him,” Miguel answered.

Daniel’s gaze had darkened some at her question and Juliette found herself uneasy to hear his answer.

“About two years now,” Daniel finally said. “He don’t remember me, but I remember him plenty.”

Juliette felt a chill travel across her skin at that.

“It was before I got mauled,” Daniel grumbled. “Plenty of people don’t recognize me anymore.”

Juliette looked up at Daniel for a moment, some part of her wanting to apologize on Arthur’s behalf. As she looked at Daniel, she found herself wondering what he had looked like. There were pieces of him that made her think he had been handsome once, that now he was only a shadow of what he had been. His scar was startling, but it was a settled look in his eyes that made him seem frightening. A resentment that flickered in them every now and then. Juliette had found it reappeared when they were in towns, but when they were simply travelling he seemed far more relaxed.

“What happened?” Juliette asked. Her gaze slid forward, her expression falling. “If you remember him… it could not be for a good reason.”

“It ain’t,” Daniel agreed. “Same damn thing that always happens, Juliette.” Anger coursed through his voice, his frustration building. “Always end up shooting a town, don’t they?”

Her heart fell. She did not need to know anymore. Valentine, Strawberry, Blackwater, and now this unnamed town… how many more would there be?

“I suppose they do,” Juliette said quietly.

“Outlaws don’t change,” Daniel said lowly. “Always the same until they’re behind bars.”

Miguel remained quiet, riding beside Daniel. His expression had become solemn, lacking the humor he usually had. A sense of melancholy fell over the group.

“How long has he been a part of his gang?” Juliette asked.

“Heard he’s been in it longest,” Daniel said. “Raised as one of Van der Linde’s dogs.”

If he had been in a gang the majority of his life… would he ever leave? If he had devoted twenty years or more to them, could he walk away?

Juliette sighed, trying to clear her head. She had spoken to Arthur; she knew him better than either of them. He’d been tired, he’d spent a week away without hesitation… but how could a week become years? Would he always follow them to the next town to kill? He had told her he wanted to be different… she needed to believe in him, trust what he said was true. Of course, she could not be naïve, she had to be sure he was being honest with her.

“He’ll probably die for ‘em,” Miguel said. “Ain’t an easy way out no more, not with the Pinkertons chasing after them.”

She had almost forgotten about that aspect. She had spent several days away from their problems, long enough she had distanced it from herself.

“Still not deterred?” Miguel mused. “You are a stubborn one, that is for sure, señorita.”

“If I believe in something,” Juliette agreed.

“Believe in an outlaw?” Daniel scoffed.

“Yes,” Juliette said.

She hoped she would not learn to regret those words, but Juliette had decided not to walk away. Arthur had proven himself enough for her to believe he at least wanted to be better. That was the first step to changing… and who was she to claim him to horrible to ever change? She had doomed plenty of people, taken away their livelihood without much thought.

“You were once an outlaw, were you not?” Juliette asked, looking to Miguel.

“Sure, but I was only a thief, señorita,” Miguel said. “I did not steal people’s lives.”

Juliette might be in that category; it was hard to tell anymore. Everything was blurred now; she could not see clearly her past actions. She had a reason back then, but now it seemed meaningless.

“Only hearts,” Miguel said.

Juliette looked up in time to catch him wink at Daniel. Daniel grimaced and Miguel chuckled in amusement. Juliette smiled slightly. She was beginning to wonder how far their partnership went, if it ended professionally or existed past that. There were more and more moments she was catching them acting friendly.

“Keep on with that and see where it gets you,” Daniel huffed.

“I’m only kidding, Danny,” Miguel said. Daniel wouldn’t look at Miguel and Miguel whined, “C’mon!”

“Truly a hardened outlaw,” Daniel scoffed.

Juliette chuckled softly.

Juliette did appreciate their concern; it was reassuring to know they were trying to look out for her. Juliette was surprised at how little they pushed for her to move on from Arthur, even after Valentine Miguel had asked what she would do. There was no insistence that she must say goodbye to him, instead they warily remained by her side.

Eventually they reached a split in the path they had been following and Juliette glanced up to find the sun. It was lazily inching up, but still had not reached its highest peak. Using it as her guide, Juliette chose the path to the left.

She heard shuffling behind her and glanced back to see Daniel had been rummaging through his satchel, Miguel watching with a smirk. 

“What?” Juliette questioned.

“We headin’ the right way?” Daniel asked uncertainly.

“You said it was north,” Juliette said with a slight frown. “The other path was heading East.”

Juliette brought Fleur to a halt as she waited. Daniel and Miguel approached, Daniel glancing back towards the other path, unconvinced.

“You sure?” Daniel asked.

Juliette stared at him for a moment.

“The sun… rises in the East,” Juliette said slowly.

She looked over to Miguel, but Miguel’s gaze was fixed on Daniel. He was beaming, his eyes bright. He looked like he was waiting for something with bated breath, not daring to speak. Juliette looked back to Daniel. He seemed perplexed.

“Does it?” Daniel asked.

Juliette stared at him in disbelief for a moment. She thought it was common knowledge, but he sounded so unsure, as if Juliette was trying to trick him. She would not be surprised if Miguel had tricked him in the past. Juliette could not explain why, but she had thought Daniel to be rather intelligent. Someone who read books, with plenty of knowledge on obscure facts. It was strange to have her perception of him shattered. The more she thought about it, the clearer it became she had no reason to think this of him. He had never mentioned an author or bought a book, his gaze simply seemed intelligent.

“Yes,” Juliette said. “It does.”

Daniel looked over at Miguel, looking for assurance. Miguel smirked at him and snickered.

“Fuck off,” Daniel growled.

Miguel laughed happily. Daniel punched him in the arm, but Miguel hardly reacted. Juliette was nearly afraid he’d fall off of his horse. She smiled in amusement.

“Happy?” Juliette asked Miguel.

“Incredibly,” Miguel agreed. “Daniel is a dumbass! He just hides it!”

Daniel glowered, but did not seem too bothered by Miguel’s taunts.

“Let us keep going,” Juliette said with a soft chuckle. “The sun rises in the east, so this should lead us north.”

“Alright,” Daniel muttered in agreement.

They continued on towards Emerald Ranch, encountering no one else on the road. Juliette was surprised to find she had missed them, she enjoyed talking with them. She understood why they were against Arthur, but she was glad that the conversation had moved past him.

It was mid afternoon by the time they were approaching the ranch. The sun hung high overhead, causing the air to warm up. Emerald Ranch from a distance looked similar to a small town. There were groupings of wooden buildings around a main street with pastures splayed out around and in between the buildings. There were few trees around the ranch but seemed to be more past it. She could see the green valleys past it. Juliette could see few creatures outside of the pastures but hoped there would be some wild horses a distance past the ranch.

“Careful around here,” Daniel said. “Somethin strange is goin’ on.”

“Strange how?” Juliette questioned.

Surely it could not be any worse than Rhodes.

“There’s a ghost,” Miguel supplied.

Daniel shot Miguel an annoyed look and Miguel snickered.

“We saw her,” Miguel continued, undeterred by Daniel. “Creepy sight, staring out of the window late at night.”

“Staring out a window is not all that strange,” Juliette reasoned.

“She doesn’t leave the house,” Daniel explained. “Lotta rumors ‘bout it. Folks like to talk, say her father keeps her locked up.”

“Scared me half to death,” Miguel laughed. “Looked up and there’s this ghostly pale woman watchin’ us! Looked like she wanted our souls.”

Juliette frowned.

“Perhaps she is sick,” Juliette said uncertainly.

“Maybe,” Daniel agreed. “Just got a bad feeling about the situation is all. Be careful.”

Juliette nodded in agreement.

Her gaze traveled across the ranch again, searching the road, before following it out of town. It seemed there were three main entrances to the ranch, the road they were traveling on that entered the town in the middle, and either side of the main road that continued on seemingly towards Valentine and whatever was East.

Juliette glanced over one of the trees towards the right. It was a large towering oak, a rare sight after the barren land they had passed through. Juliette certainly preferred having some trees around, she was not sure she would like it further west when cacti became more common and canyons dominated the terrain.

She spotted a figure under the tree, what looked like a collapsed horse.

“Look over there,” Juliette said.

Daniel and Miguel both followed her gaze.

“I do not see anything interesting,” Miguel said in a bored tone.

Daniel didn’t say anything, but when Juliette looked back at him he seemed to still be searching.

“Under the tree,” Juliette explained. “Does that not look like a horse?”

She turned Fleur to cut across the grassland between them and the tree, her gaze fixed on what she thought to be a horse.

“Maybe,” Daniel said. “Could easily be a rock.”

Juliette continued across and heard a sigh behind her.

“Señorita, rocks are not all that interesting,” Miguel said.

“Indulge me,” Juliette said. “I will catch up with you both in a moment.”

They seemed to consider it for a moment, before Miguel replied, “Fine, then. Enjoy your rock!”

They could very well be right that it was nothing, but Juliette had plenty of time to spare. She could venture across and investigate to her heart’s content. She had no schedule to conform to, no meetings to attend, and no one breathing down her neck. Even when she did have all of these reasons, Juliette would still investigate things she found curious. It drove Edmond mad; he was a stickler for arriving on time, and never quite saw the point in stopping. He would promise her there would be a day she could look around, days where every hours was there to spend however they wanted, but today was not that day. Except that day never came. Instead countless others fell in line, and steadily more and more their calendars became distantly filled. She could hear him then still, _just a few more days, a few more weeks, a few more months! _

He would always promise her the same fantasy. _In a month it will just be you and I, out in the country. No one will be looking for us, and if they do they will not find us! We will have days to ourselves, we just have to make it there. _She used to believe him. Juliette now believed he thought he was telling the truth, but somehow something always got in the way. Eventually the fantasy twisted into something Juliette was scared of. Suddenly it was not just them, but _imagine it, our children will be playing in the field as we watch. _At first the fantasy had been about them escaping, but then in a blink of an eye kids were involved. Juliette had always felt suffocated by the thought of settling down, even with Edmond she felt as if she could not breathe. Husband and children were the end, there was no leaving after that. It was as good as nailing a chain to the floor, after that there was no leaving. No running.

Perhaps that was why she left the way she did, without warning. She had woken up one morning and decided it was time. Of course, Edmond pleaded with her to stay. At that point the engagement had already been called off privately, the word had not spread. Now Juliette wondered if people knew, if they had let the information leak. It was very possible they were masquerading the situation for something else, pretending Juliette was still engaged and following the plan.

Fleur’s pace had slowed considerably as Juliette fell victim to her own thoughts, she was barely walking. Juliette was content with this, in no rush, until she heard the voice.

“H-hello? Is someone there?” a woman’s voice called desperately. “Please, I’m trapped…”

“I am here,” Juliette said instantly.

She moved Fleur to a trot to close the distance between her and figure she had spotted. As they got closer Juliette realized she was right, it was a horse. A rather large one at that, dark brown, with a black mane. It was collapsed with a woman trapped under it by her legs. She was luckily in the shade of the tree, protected from the sun.

The horse was dead, that much was clear to Juliette as she approached the woman. It’s eyes were open, its body completely still.

“My leg’s all numb,” the woman said. “Please hurry.” 

“What happened?” Juliette asked as she brought Fleur to a halt.

“My horse collapsed! I- I don’t know why,” the woman said. Juliette dismounted Fleur and walked over. “It’s my friend’s…”

“There was no warning?” Juliette asked with a slight frown.

She had never heard of a horse simply collapsing, usually there was something else connected to it.

“I-I don’t know!” The woman said, her panic rising. “It’s not my horse!”

“Alright, alright,” Juliette reassured. “I will get you out of here, just breathe.”

The woman took in a deep breath and released it slowly. She looked older than Juliette, but not by much. She was wearing a light blue bonnet, her dark hair pulled back into a messy bun, short strands of hair falling in her face. She was wearing a golden wedding band, but no other jewelry.

Juliette moved to her side instantly. She set one hand firmly under the horse’s neck, another on the horn of the saddle. Juliette pulled up, but the horse barely budged. The woman instantly tried to push up as well, but with her legs pinned she did not have any leverage.

Juliette tried again for a few minutes, before finally coming to terms with the fact it was not working. She backed up and frowned, trying to think. They were under a tree with strong branches, she could-

“Señorita!”

Juliette looked over to see Miguel and Daniel approaching, Miguel leading the way.

“I was beginning to think you stood us up,” Miguel chuckled. “For a rock no less!”

“No, I did not,” Juliette said. “I have been trying to free this woman, her horse collapsed-“

Juliette looked back to the woman to see her eyes wide, fixated on something in fear. Juliette followed her gaze up to Daniel. He was not looking at the woman, but instead at the horse. He seemed to be avoiding looking at her at all costs.

“Go help her, Miguel,” Daniel grumbled.

“Me?” Miguel scoffed. “You are the-“

“Hurry up, we don’t have all day,” Daniel snapped, sounding more annoyed.

Miguel stared at Daniel for a moment, before glancing back to the woman. He gave Daniel a pointed look, but Daniel was no longer looking at them. Instead he had firmly fixed his gaze on the horizon. Miguel dismounted his own horse and walked over towards Juliette.

“Fine then,” Miguel said. “At least I can prove my strength to you finally!”   
With Miguel’s help they were able to lift up the horse enough for the woman to crawl out from under it.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” The woman exclaimed.

Juliette offered her a hand and the woman accepted it. Juliette pulled her to her feet and the woman stumbled, having to lean against Juliette briefly to steady herself.

“You both saved me! Oh, that was bad! I could’ve been stuck out here and starved- or-“

That was true, Juliette was sure that the woman could not lift the horse on her own. Juliette could not even do it with her help. Juliette could not imagine what would happen if Fleur died similarly, she could not lift her. She would be trapped. Luckily, Juliette knew Fleur was in good health. She was not about to die.

“Coyotes run around these parts,” Miguel offered.

The woman paled considerably.

“They do? Lord I could’ve been eaten!” The woman said.

The woman leaned back down to the horse, patting its neck. Juliette shot a look at Miguel, but he seemed irritated. Juliette could not surmise that the woman had done anything to upset Miguel. Miguel retreated back to Daniel’s side.

“You poor stupid creature,” the woman murmured to the horse.

Juliette frowned slightly, but did not comment. Miguel scoffed.

“Not the horse’s fault,” Miguel said. “Poor bastard.”

The woman looked back to Miguel as he mounted his own horse.

“Yes, I suppose so,” the woman agreed uneasily. Her gaze flickered briefly to Daniel, before she hurriedly looked away.

“Well, good luck,” Miguel said to her.

“Her horse is dead,” Juliette said in disbelief.

“Two good feet,” Miguel scoffed.

“Yes, yes,” the woman agreed. “Thank y’all.”

“Hear that, Juliette,” Miguel said.

“Go ahead,” Juliette said. “Madame, would you like a ride home?”

She heard movement behind her and looked back in time to see Miguel heading off. Daniel waved to Juliette, before following after him. Juliette sighed and shook her head. She truly did not understand Miguel’s morals. They seemed to shift constantly; Juliette could not pinpoint why.

“Oh, oh, yes, ma’am, please!” she said. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Juliette said.

She walked back to Fleur and pulled herself back up into her saddle. As the woman approached, Juliette offered her a hand and helped her up behind Juliette.

“Do you know Valentine? I live there,” the woman said.

Juliette knew Valentine far too well. She had not wanted to revisit it so soon, but…

“Yes,” Juliette answered.

Juliette led Fleur back towards the road closest to them and directed her down towards where Juliette guessed Valentine was. As they walked, Juliette spotted a sign offering directions that confirmed her suspicions.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the woman asked. “You have an accent.”

“No, I am not,” Juliette confirmed. “My name is Juliette.”

“Miriam,” the woman said. “Miriam Davis… miss, were those your… acquaintances?”

“Friends,” Juliette confirmed.

“They looked… mighty undesirable,” Miriam continued. “That one man seemed awfully frightening, you might not want to be kind with them.”

Juliette frowned, a flicker of irritation rising in her. Juliette was perfectly well aware who she chose to be friends with, Daniel and Miguel were far from the worst. Daniel was the only one that had not, as far as Juliette was aware, been in prison at one point.

She wondered how many people reacted the same way as Miriam had. Juliette could not remember how she reacted to first meeting Daniel; it had been months. She could not remember being frightened, she hoped she had not reacted badly. Juliette had always been good at keeping her expression clear, it was a useful skill.

“They are kind people,” Juliette reassured. “After all, they did help me free you.”

“Yes… yes, you are right,” Miriam sighed. “Gotten to used to judging folks quick, but… you can’t blame me, really. My uh… husband died not to long ago… there was a horrible shoot out in town, I don’t know if you heard.”

Juliette felt a chill travel across her skin, her heart dropping.

“Well he died in it… a bunch of outlaws, of course,” Miriam said. “But anyway… that’s why I was out this far, I don’t usually travel on my own. I was off inquiring about a possible job.”

Juliette nodded, trying to keep herself focused on anything but Valentine. Unfortunately, it was an impossible task. Juliette could still see the man Arthur had killed vividly, hear his rasping breaths, see the blood pooling out of his chest as he died. _Believe in Heaven? _

Juliette shook her head and took a sharp steadying breath.

“A job?” Juliette questioned, wanting desperately to steer the conversation away from Valentine. “

“Yes,” Miriam said. “Without my husband… it’s just me and my boy… and it’s hard to find work.”

“I suppose so,” Juliette agreed.

“A… a good opportunity, that’s what I’m looking for,” Miriam sighed. “Not much work for a woman with a boy to raise.”

“Must be hard to find time to leave him,” Juliette murmured.

“It is,” Miriam agreed. “He’s not old enough to be on his own… my friend Mildred, she let me borrow her horse, she is watching him for me.”

“That is nice of her,” Juliette said. “What is your son’s name?”

“Joseph,” Miriam said, her voice lifting. “Smart boy, he is.”

Juliette looked up to see a familiar rock outcropping ahead as they were entering the steppe terrain surrounding Valentine. She could see the river that was north of Valentine already running alongside them distantly.

“I won’t work in no saloon, but… I’ve got sharp eyes and quick hands,” Miriam began. “I was hoping to get a job working as a seamstress. A wealthy man said he’d pay me for the work.”

Juliette was quiet as she thought about this.

“What?” Miriam asked.

“It does not sound… good,” Juliette said uncertainly. “Did he say what for?”

“Well, not specifically…” Miriam trailed off, before continuing. “You may be right… he just… he offered me room and board for me and my boy… he just wanted to meet me first.”

“I would not trust offers like that,” Juliette said. “It does not sound particularly safe.”

“I-I can’t afford to dismiss offers like these,” Miriam said. “Even if they do seem… odd.”

“If you have a child, you have to be more careful,” Juliette said. “If… you died, then he would be worse off.”

Miriam was quiet long enough that Juliette was beginning to wonder if she had overstepped. She did not know this woman all that well, maybe it was a valid offer… although it did seem awfully suspicious.

“I… I know,” Miriam sighed. “I just may not get an opportunity like this again, even if it is a strange one… now I have to pay Mildred back for her horse as well…”

“I am sorry,” Juliette said. “It does not sound easy.”

“You finding me is the only good thing that’s happened to me in a long time, ma’am,” Miriam said. 

“Well… I am glad I could help you,” Juliette said.

As they got closer to Valentine the area around them grew greener. The grass was no longer speckled yellow, but instead bright green, the bushes had leaves, and there were more trees. Juliette could see the forest across the river then. The path they were on had changed from dusty to muddy, Juliette would have to clean Fleur. She had forgotten how muddy Valentine was.

“Are you married, ma’am?” Miriam asked.

“No,” Juliette answered. “No… I was engaged a while ago.”

“What happened?” Miriam asked. “Feller die?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Juliette said. “I… wanted something more, I suppose.”

“Well… I don’t know about you, but there weren’t many options where I’m from,” Miriam said. “We all have to settle at some point.”

Settle was not how she would describe her and Edmond. They were rich and well off, even if he had died, Juliette would not be worried about surviving. They worked well together, she enjoyed his company, but… something was missing. It was something she could ignore for the longest time, but it only got worse when he proposed. 

“We’re almost there,” Miriam said as they approached the outskirts of the town. “I live just north of the main street.”

“Alright,” Juliette said.

She slowed Fleur to a walk as she spotted a wagon heading their way. They moved to the side as the wagon went by.

“Nice town,” Juliette said.

It smelled of livestock, but it was a livestock town. It was muddy and the people were rough, but it was decent. It was better than Rhodes.

“Yes, it is,” Miriam agreed. “It ain’t Saint Denis or Strawberry, but… it’s nice. Right here, the small house on the right.”

Juliette nodded and guided Fleur out front of a small wooden house. It was one story with a fence surrounding a small garden on the side. The wooden panels were a dark brown, the windows dusted over, the roof buckled slightly, but it had its own charm to it.

“Thank you for all your help,” Miriam said.

She dismounted Fleur and smiled tiredly up at Juliette.

“You’re a good woman,” Miriam said.

“I am not really,” Juliette said. “But I am glad I could help you. Take care.”

“You too, ma’am,” Miriam said.

Juliette watched as Miriam walked up to the house and unlocked the door.

“Mama!” a little boy’s voice called.

Juliette turned Fleur back to the road and headed for the main street. She glanced around uneasily, but the town showed no signs of the attack. There were no bodies, no blood, everything seemed normal. Juliette’s gaze flickered to the sheriff’s office. There was only one bounty poster on the wall. With a frown Juliette approached it. She dismounted Fleur and walked up to it. The woman pictured was not one she recognized.

“Miss Bellerose,” the sheriff greeted.

Juliette looked over to see him exiting the office.

“You remember me?” Juliette asked.

It had been enough time that Juliette was surprised he remembered her at all.

“’Course,” the sheriff said. “Ain’t often we get any foreigners around these parts.”

Juliette nodded.

“Is the gang no longer wanted?” Juliette asked.

“Not anymore, they paid off their bounty,” the sheriff explained.

“That is it?” Juliette asked in disbelief. “Pay enough and you forgive them for killing half the town?”

She was surprised at the anger in her own voice. Juliette should be happy about this, Arthur was no longer wanted, but somehow all she felt was a building outrage. They had paid enough money, and suddenly the mass grave no longer mattered.

“Reckon so,” the sheriff said. “Can’t do much about it, miss. We’ll take what we can get. Besides, now you don’t gotta worry no more about whoever you were protecting.”

Juliette stared at him uneasily. She could remember what Daniel and Miguel had said about him, the rumors they’d heard.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” Juliette said.

“Sure,” the sheriff said. “Whatever you say, miss.”

“Have a good day, monsieur,” Juliette said.

“You as well, miss.”

Juliette returned to Fleur, but instead of mounting her she took her reins in hand and walked down to the general store. She hitched Fleur outside of it and headed inside.

“Afternoon, ma’am,” the clerk greeted.

“Afternoon, monsieur,” Juliette returned.

There was a young woman standing at the counter, she looked no older than twenty. She looked at Juliette as she entered but turned back to the clerk. Curiously enough the young woman was wearing pants, a long dark duster coat, and a dark brown cowboy hat. Juliette picked up the supplies she needed but could not help but listen into their discussion.

“It ain’t worth nothin’ more, miss,” the clerk said. “Sorry but I ain’t runnin’ a charity.”

“It was found deep in-“

“Don’t care where it was found, all I know is it’s a pile of rust on a chain,” the clerk snapped. “Try that story on someone else.”

The young woman huffed indignantly, before turning away from him. Juliette got another good look at her. She was average height, with a wide round face. Her skin was a soft fawn in shade, speckled with freckles across her cheeks and nose. She had a few visible scars, a small one on her jaw line, another on her nose, one on her bottom lip, and a few newer scratches on her hands. Her hair was a dark brown, nearly black, that was pulled into a long braid. Small curls fell out around her face, framing it. The shirt she was wearing was an off white with red stripes going vertical and horizonal. She had a bandana around her neck, and a belt with twin pistols.

Juliette approached the counter as the young woman left. The clerk rung her up and Juliette immediately headed out of the shop, her gaze hunting for the young woman once more. Truthfully, Juliette knew why she was so intrigued by her. She reminded her of someone she had not thought of in a long time. The woman was stood not far away at a black horse, a thoroughbred if Juliette was not mistake. She was talking lowly to her horse, irritation in her tone.

Juliette returned to Fleur, stowing away supplies, before approaching the young woman.

“Hello,” Juliette greeted.

The woman stiffened a moment, before turning to look at Juliette.

“Howdy, miss,” she said. Her light brown eyes were filled with distrust, as if she was waiting for Juliette to pull out a pistol and rob her. As she continued, her voice took a notable colder tone. “Can I help you?”

Juliette could not help but smile gently. Camille had reacted similarly to Juliette’s approach, cautious and distrusting.

“Can I ask, what were you trying to sell him?” Juliette asked.

The woman hesitated a moment, before she pulled out a necklace from her satchel. She held it out for Juliette to examine warily. Juliette took a step forward and the young woman visibly stiffened but held her ground. Juliette held the pendant in her hand, running her thumb over it. It was rusted over and dirty, but it could be cleaned. It looked like a copper pendant with some sort of detailing on it that was hidden under the dirt. The chain was equally as rough but was replaceable.

“Where did you find it?” Juliette questioned.

She pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and held it out to Juliette.

“Not an easy find,” she said. Her tone had changed significantly, she liked Juliette’s question. She was proud of her accomplishment, she wanted to talk about it. “Deep in this cave hidden behind this waterfall, had to climb up to it.”

Juliette unfolded the piece of paper to see a treasure map. She stared at it in surprise, studying it closely. The paper was old and torn in a few places, but the lines were still distinct.

“A treasure map?” Juliette asked. “Where was it?”

“Waterfall south of here,” she said. “Ain’t no point goin’, I cleared it out. Nothin’ worthwhile to be honest… that’s always the risk.”

“Yes,” Juliette agreed. “You are a treasure hunter?”

“Of sorts,” she said. “Whatever pays well enough. Sometimes bounties, sometimes hunting, sometimes I hear about something worthwhile and look for it. All depends what’s bein’ paid for.”

She sounded boastful, but Juliette could understand why. Bounty hunting was far from easy and if she truly did it, Juliette was impressed. She was unsure all that treasure hunting entailed, but Juliette was intrigued.

“Juliette Bellerose,” Juliette said as she offered her hand.

“Rowan Barlow,” she returned. Rowan shook her hand and Juliette was surprised at how calloused it felt.

“If you do not mind me asking… how old are you?” Juliette asked.

“Nineteen, ma’am,” Rowan said. “Ain’t mean nothin’, I can handle myself just fine.”

Nineteen. That was young, far too young to be bounty hunting. She had to be without a family, too young to understand danger.

“You do seem very brave,” Juliette agreed.

Perhaps Juliette should have warned her, but she had a feeling it would fall on deaf ears even if she did.

Rowan stood up taller at that, pleased by Juliette’s compliment. Juliette smiled slightly. Already, Juliette was fond of her. She was young and far too confident, but so was Juliette at her age. So was Camille.

“How about I trade you?” Juliette offered. “For the necklace and the map.”

“How much?” Rowan asked suspiciously.

“I did say trade,” Juliette chuckled.

She moved her hand to the back of her neck to undo her own necklace. She pulled herself free from it and held it out for Rowan to examine. Rowan reached out instantly but hesitated with her finger a millimeter from it.

“Why?” Rowan asked instantly. “You and I both know that’s worth more than everything I have to offer.”

“I… want to get rid of it,” Juliette said. She did not realize it was true until she said it, but she did. It was time. “And I cannot be bothered to find a good price. I trust you can and use the money well.”

“Sure,” Rowan agreed. “You sure?”

Juliette shrugged. She understood her logic seemed flawed and perhaps it was, but suddenly the weight of the necklace felt unbearable in her hands. Tainted.

“It reminds me of bad memories,” Juliette said simply. “Better to get rid of it and move on.”

“If you’re sure,” Rowan said with a slow smile. “I won’t say no.”

Juliette held out the necklace and Rowan accepted it, before handing Juliette the map and necklace.

“Thank you,” Juliette said.

“Nah,” Rowan said as she waved her off. “Thanks, miss. Can I do anything else for you?”

Juliette considered this for a moment.

“You said this cave was not far away?” Juliette questioned.

“Not at all,” Rowan said. “Down the river a ways south, short ride, really.”

If it was not that far away, a trip may be interesting. She was curious about it. If it looked intriguing, it might be worth a picture. Juliette surveyed Rowan, and then her horse. The thoroughbred had a harness with a lantern, tools attached by the saddlebags. The two of them would be good a good subject of the photo. Not quite predators, but… perhaps that was better. Juliette was not in the mood to find trouble, she had plenty of wounds that had barely healed already.

“This may be a strange request, but would you let me take a photograph of you by the cave?”

“A photograph?” Rowan asked in disbelief. “Why?”

“Sounds interesting to me,” Juliette said.

Rowan looked over at Fleur, seemingly spotting Juliette’s camera. She looked back to Juliette with a crooked smile.

“Sure, why not,” Rowan said. “I got the time.”

Juliette returned to Fleur, sliding away the map and necklace into her saddlebags. The trade she had made was one of the most questionable in her life, but she knew she would not regret it. Juliette was content with Rowan selling the necklace somewhere else undoubtedly, she needed the money more than Juliette.

As they passed by the butcher’s stand, Juliette’s gaze lingered where the man had been. Had that been Miriam’s husband? It was a terrible thought, but it was one she could not shake. Juliette let out a long breath.

“Are you from around here?” Juliette asked.

“Nah,” Rowan answered. “Further west. Reckon I’m still from a lot closer than you are.”

“Yes,” Juliette agreed.

“Gonna tell me where you’re from?”

“Across the ocean,” Juliette said.

“Ain’t that vague,” Rowan scoffed.

“As vague as further west,” Juliette chuckled.

“Fair enough,” Rowan said. “You a hunter? Saw your bow.”

“Do I look like a hunter?” Juliette questioned.

Rowan studied Juliette slowly, looking her up and down.

“Not really,” Rowan said with a slight smirk. “Look like you’re from some city.”

“Perhaps,” Juliette said. “I have hunted before, but I am not particularly good at it.”

Juliette let her gaze wander for a moment, surveying the area around them. It looked familiar, it had not been terribly long since… Juliette looked back to Rowan, begging for a distraction.

“Ever catch anything big, my friend’s a trader,” Rowan said. “We travel around a lot together; she’ll give you a fair price.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Juliette said.

As Rowan guided the way, she could see the path she had taken from Strawberry to Valentine. It felt like ages ago then, she was beginning to forget that she had not been in America all that long. A year certainly sounded short, but it felt long. She had experienced more than she expected, survived longer.

Juliette spotted a rifle connected Rowan’s saddle.

“Have you encountered much trouble?” Juliette asked.

“About as much as you expect,” Rowan said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Ain’t quiet out here, but never expected it to be.”

Juliette nodded slowly.

“How ‘bout you, miss?” Rowan questioned. “Run into much trouble?”

If Rowan had asked a couple of weeks ago, Juliette would have answered no. Her past month had felt like never ending trouble. Of course, now it had settled some, thankfully.

“Recently I have,” Juliette admitted.

“Were you in Valentine when those idiots shot the hell out of it?” Rowan asked.

Juliette smiled. She quite liked that description.

“Yes, I was,” Juliette said. “Were you?”

“Yeah,” Rowan said. “Miserable bastards, the lot of them. They tied a noose around their neck and now that it’s finally tightening, they’re determined to bring down the world with ‘em.”

“You… might be right about that,” Juliette said. “I… cannot understand it.”

She understood needing to protect their gang, but… they seemed to only be digging their graves deeper. Robbing Cornwall was certainly a mistake, as far as Juliette could gather that was what led to the Pinkertons chasing them.

“What exactly you doin’ out here anyway?” Rowan asked. “Don’t act like you’ve been out here all that long.”

“It is a long story,” Juliette said. “Not a particularly interesting one either.”

“In other words, you don’t wanna share with a stranger?” Rowan scoffed.

Juliette looked up at Rowan, her smile returning. She quite liked Rowan already. She knew in good part it was because of who she reminded Juliette of, but her brazen nature was entirely her own. Somehow Rowan already felt like her younger sister.

“This cannot be a one-sided exchange,” Juliette returned.

“Know how to barter,” Rowan chuckled. “Alright, I can play.”

Juliette was unsure if she could. Her past was not something she was proud of, not something she wanted to be known. Plenty of people were able to move on easily, to separate themselves entirely from their history, but Juliette could not yet. A part of her was still that person, as much as she did not want to be. It would always be there.

“Maybe another time,” Juliette said.

“Can’t be all that bad,” Rowan said.

“Still a fresh wound,” Juliette explained. Even after a year, still it stung sharply. She still was unsure if she had chosen correctly. It was cowardice, yes, but… Juliette did not want to be a part of a war. She was tired, desperate for something different and she had found it. As chaotic and unpredictable as her life was, she was happy with it. She could see herself living like this forever, or… potentially settling down.

Juliette smiled slightly at the thought but was quick to quiet it.

“I reckon I understand that,” Rowan relented. “Anything to do with the necklace?”

Juliette looked over at Rowan.

“I thought you understood,” Juliette mused.

“Sorry, just curious,” Rowan chuckled. “Can’t blame me for tryin’, miss.”

“No, no I cannot,” Juliette agreed.

That was another difference, Rowan was far more open now that they had exchanged names. Juliette was grateful for it, riding in complete silence did not sound particularly exciting.

“Nice horse you got,” Rowan said. “Standardbred?”

“Yes, she is,” Juliette agreed.

“What’s her name?” Rowan asked.

“Fleur,” Juliette supplied. At Rowan’s confused look, Juliette added, “It means flower.”

“Why not name her Flower then?” Rowan asked.

Juliette considered this. It was a valid point, but not something Juliette had taken into consideration.

“It did not sound right,” Juliette said after a moment.

“Hmm,” Rowan said. “Reckon American ain’t that pretty.”

Juliette stared at Rowan for a moment and chuckled. She took a lot of what she knew as common knowledge for granted. Perhaps she was simply being pretentious.

“What is your horse named?” Juliette asked.

“Valkyrie,” Rowan said instantly, as if she had been waiting for the question.

“Valkyrie?” Juliette repeated in surprise. Truly she had no idea what was common knowledge. Valkyrie was certainly not a word she had expected to hear, it was one she had only read in truth.

“From the myths, y’know,” Rowan said.

“Yes, I do,” Juliette said. “I am surprised you do as well.”

“I read plenty,” Rowan said. “Nothin’ all that fancy or shit, but I like myths plenty.”

Juliette nodded. This would not be a fair question if she did read, but Juliette still felt inclined to ask.

“Do you know which direction the sun rises?” Juliette asked.

“Rises?” Rowan repeated. “Ain’t that the east? Reckon it’s in the bible, ain’t it?”

Juliette shrugged; she did not know if it was. She was not well versed anymore; it had been a long time since she had even stepped in a church.

“Not a godly woman?” Rowan mused.

“I suppose not,” Juliette murmured.

Juliette was unsure if she could ever attend enough services to rid herself of all her sins. She knew that was not how it was meant to work, but she could not force herself to even look at a church for long. Maybe one day, but Juliette still had to come to terms with what she had done. After she had, perhaps then she could look for forgiveness.

“I ain’t either, if it’s any consolation,” Rowan said. “Never really believed in cults, gangs or otherwise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this fic is way closer to 100k words than i expected?? Idk why it still feels so early to me, but it legit feels like I've posted five chapters but we're at fifteen??? absolutely wild   
rowan is my rdr online character that wasn't going to make an appearance in this ever but then my friend made an oc and things spiraled and here we are c': she won't be a major character, but her and emily (my wonderful friend's oc) will show up a few times and emily will sort of play a similar role that daniel/miguel do as in warning arthur of jules isn't a great person but that'll be a ways down the line   
also first instance of daniel being a dumb ass??? love an idiot   
I also made a fic of daniel pre rdr2 before he met miguel and it will follow how they met/ended up this far east so if you're interested in that here's a link!   
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654561/chapters/54146533  
thanks so much for reading!! let me know what you guys thought c:


	16. Art of Advertising

Arthur had spent about a week with Juliette and staying away wasn’t easy. He knew the camp needed him around more, but it was awfully hard to keep himself focused. He ended up playing deputy more than he’d liked. The badge had always felt wrong, but now the reminder of it made him feel guilty. Dutch and Bill didn’t share this guilt, they took up their roles surprisingly well. Wasn’t too surprising, Bill liked to let the smallest amount of power get to his head.

He’d expected to be able to slip out of camp after helping Dutch and Bill, but as soon as he started towards Whiskey Abigail waved him over. Frustrated, Arthur obliged. She relayed a message to him to meet up with Hosea and off he went. Normally something like this would be more exciting to Arthur, he liked working with Hosea, but lately it’d felt more like a nuisance. Course he wanted to help out the gang all that he could, but… every moment he was in camp he wanted to leave. He was pretty sure Dutch was starting to notice, he felt like he had eyes on him all the time at camp. Micah’s weasel like eyes watched him too much for his liking. Arthur always wanted to hit the bastard, but he’d restrained himself. Still wished he’d let him hang in Strawberry.

It didn’t take him too long to find Hosea and John. They were near where the moonshine cart had been left, John sat on the back of the cart, while Hosea was leaning up against it.

“Hey, Arthur,” John greeted gruffly as Arthur brought Whiskey to a halt.

He dismounted Whiskey and walked over uncertainly.

“What are you doin’?” Arthur asked.

“We are selling it back to where it came from,” Hosea said.

Hosea always spoke confidently, confidently enough Arthur tended to just trust his judgement. This was one of the few moments that Arthur did immediately have questions. This sounded downright stupid.

“Why?” Arthur scoffed.

“Well…” Hosea turned to look at their supplies while John got off of the cart. “To be honest with you, Arthur, I do not have the market for moonshine… but they must. They made it, they must have someone to sell it to.”

Hosea leaned down to pick up another large jug of moonshine and John helped him set it up on the wagon.

“I think we’ll cut ourselves a deal,” Hosea said with a crooked smile.

“Ah…. I get you,” Arthur said.

He picked up the final jug and set it beside the one John had placed. John secured the cart’s back.

“Seems like a good way to get shot ‘s all,” Arthur said.

Hosea was already at the front of the cart, pulling himself up into the seat.

“You and Dutch was just doing your duty,” Hosea reasoned. “When you requisitioned it and now I’m doing mine.”

“Not sure they’ll see it that way,” Arthur muttered.

Despite his reservations, Arthur walked up and hauled himself beside Hosea.

“We will make them see it that way, my boy,” Hosea said. “No one gets paid easily.”

“Alright, I’ll catch up with you later then,” John said.

Arthur glanced back at John in time to see him mount his horse. Arthur nodded, before commanding Whiskey to follow. Slowly, Whiskey walked over to the cart. Arthur flicked the reins and the cart lurched forward as the two white shires began to walk.

“Thank you, John. We’ll see you later,” Hosea said.

He seemed to notice Arthur’s irritated look as he continued to Arthur, “Dutch has him looking into something to do with the Braithwaite horses, I think.”

“Sure, okay,” Arthur muttered.

Course John got to look into it while Arthur was stuck with the dirty work. At least he was doing it with Hosea and not Bill or Micah. He’d had enough of them, just the other day he’d had to stop a fight between Bill and Javier that Micah had started. Micah was a weasel alright; he knew exactly how to start shit and be the only one escaping without a black eye. Arthur didn’t trust him in the slightest.

“We need to take it to the Braithwaite Manor,” Hosea said. “You know the way?”

“Yeah, I’ve been there before,” Arthur sighed. “What exactly is your plan here, Hosea?”

“I think the good citizens taking the trouble to return their stolen goods deserve some reward, don’t you?” Hosea asked with a sly smirk.

“We were the ones that blew up their still in the first place,” Arthur scoffed. “Ain’t gonna be pleased to see us, are they?”

“Not how I see it,” Hosea said. “You were only doing your duty as deputy, but now we can help them out. Besides, it’s time we made a formal introduction, like Dutch told us.”

Hosea bringing up Dutch’s name felt like he was clarifying that they _had _to do this, not only did Hosea think it was a good idea but Dutch did too. This happened a lot, when the two of them got their mind set on something there was no going back. Arthur could poke as many holes as he wanted into their plan, but it don’t matter one bit. Dutch and Hosea agreed and that was that, Arthur didn’t have any say in the matter. Usually he didn’t particularly care that much, but today it was irritating him.

“Well if _Dutch_, told us too,” Arthur grumbled.

“What is going on with you lately?” Hosea asked. “You seem distracted and angry lately.”

“Somethin’ don’t feel right about all this,” Arthur said. “We’re dressin’ up as deputies now? We’re supposed to be lyin’ low, but none of y’all seem to remember that.”

They were in the public’s eye too much for Arthur’s liking. He didn’t particularly like having his name plastered up on every goddamn wall, he wanted to stay out of trouble for just a week. ‘Course that was too much to ask when they were running low on cash with Pinkertons tailing them. He hated thinking about this more than anything, he liked to let Hosea be the worried one. It suited him better, Arthur greatly preferred being an enforcer. He could do that easy.

Distantly thunder roared and Arthur looked up to see a storm of the distant horizon. The clouds overhead were a dull gray, but didn’t seem threatening yet. He’d need to keep an eye out, he wasn’t ready to get caught in the middle of anything.

“We have a good lead here, Arthur,” Hosea reasoned. “We can’t let it go to waste. Look, these are two big old plantation houses and all I keep hearing is they hate each other so much they can’t see past it.”

“Yeah, I reckon so,” Arthur agreed reluctantly. “I’ve seen it plenty.”

There was a Gray boy and a Braithwaite girl having a secret affair, keeping it hidden from their families. Arthur had the honor of being their messenger.

The path they’d been on turned into a gravel path up ahead lined with trees on either side. There were fields surrounding the manor, the dirt a bright red, the plants poked out of the ground with dark spindly limbs. From a distance they almost looked like charred skeletons poking out of the ground.

The fence line ran out rather quickly on the path towards the manor, with how rich these folks were Arthur expected it to continue along the outline of their property, making it clear how much they owned. Arthur was used to folks being pretentious with their wealth, making his life harder.

“I’m sure there’s money in this for us somewhere, if we can get in the middle of it,” Hosea said.

Arthur was sure he was right, Hosea always was. As they approached the front archway Arthur spotted a few armed guards standing out front. God he didn’t miss standing on guard for the camp, staring out for hours and hours.

“Here we are,” Arthur said as he slowed the wagon.

“Modest little homestead, isn’t it?” Hosea asked.

Arthur chuckled and brought the wagon to a halt. Instantly the guards headed towards them, four in total. Two moved to the back of the wagon to survey it, while the other two looked up at them, expectantly. Instantly, Hosea spoke.

“Hello gentleman, how are you?” Hosea asked.

He was using his con man voice. It was smoother than his normal voice and more refined, sounded like someone that grew up among the elite. Arthur knew better, but he was pretty damn convincing.

“What’s in the back there?” the guard asked as he studied their crates of bottles.

“Moonshine, my fine fellow,” Hosea said. “May I have a word with the man of the house?”

“The ‘man’ of the house is a lady,” one of the guards snapped.

“Mrs. Catherine Braithwaite,” another said.

Hosea ignored the hostility in their voices and continued on,” May I speak with her? I want to discuss a business opportunity.”

He was going to get them shot. Arthur could already feel a bullet tearing through his skin. He looked back to see Whiskey and Silver Dollar still following them. At least they’d have a quick exit if things did go south.

Arthur looked forward again as he caught the rest of what Hosea said, “You may happily shoot me if I do.”

Arthur shot him a look, but Hosea ignored him. Despite Arthur’s reservations, Hosea’s plan worked. The guards let them through, and they were able to continue on, with a couple of guards’ following on behind them. As they drew closer to the house Arthur spotted some more buildings on past it. He wondered how far down their land went, when he’d delivered the letter, he hadn’t been able to see the edge. He hated these people.

As soon as they drew close to the house, the dark front door pulled open and an old woman stepped out. She looked like someone that had been alive too long, her eyes were sunken in and soulless. Her skin sagged and was pale, like she rarely spent anytime outside. She certainly seemed the type to carry a damn fan and parasol around. That’s why they had hats, but fancy folks always had to go another mile to find a more expensive solution.

Hosea got down from the wagon and Arthur followed, still feeling uneasy.

“What you want?” the woman demanded.

Her voice was strangely sharp and powerful, it didn’t match her well. She looked rather feeble to Arthur, a gust of wind wouldn’t knock her down, but a push would send her to the ground instantly. He knew he should be more intimidated by her, but it was awfully hard to be.

“Found something out in the hills, thought… maybe you was in the market for it,” Hosea said.

Mrs. Braithwaite reacted about as Arthur expected with a retort of,” I ain’t in the market for what’s already mine.”

Despite this, Hosea continued on, doing what he did best. He always was able to spin the facts in their favor; Hosea could con the devil out of his pitchfork if he wanted. There were men behind Mrs. Braithwaite brandishing rifles and Arthur wasn’t particularly sure he wanted to get shot over a wagon of moonshine. Hosea seemed unafraid.

“How much do you sell it for?” Hosea asked.

“Dollar a bottle,” Mrs. Braithwaite returned.

Arthur wasn’t sure why she was humoring them, she looked ready to call the order to have her boys shoot them down.

“Then give us fifty cents,” Hosea said.

Even Arthur knew that was a bad deal, but he remained stoic. He didn’t have to say anything, Mrs. Braithwaite knew.

“It’s already ours,” she snapped.

She was wearing pearl earrings and some sort of fancy stone on the collar of her dress. Seemed awfully expensive for a woman that seemed to never leave her house.

“Look on it as a reward, for finding the property,” Hosea said. 

Silently, Arthur added, _and for blowing up the distillery. _

“The alternative is we sell it to someone else,” Hosea said with a small laugh.

Instantly one of the men behind Mrs. Braithwaite reacted, anger crossing him. He aimed his rifle towards Hosea and Arthur reached towards his pistol.

“Alternative is you get shot,” he snarled.

Hosea held up his hands but continued talking.

“Now, who wants to get shot of a bottle or two of liquor?” Hosea reasoned.

‘Course they wouldn’t get shot over just that, they’d done plenty of damage to her business already. They weren’t exactly her allies.

To Arthur’s surprise, Mrs. Braithwaite reached out and grabbed the barrel of the rifle, forcing it down. Instantly the other weapons lowered around her.

“Pay the man,” she commanded.

The man instantly rushed away to do her bidding, not wasting a moment. Well trained dog. Arthur waited stiffly for the strings attached, and surely, they came. The man returned moments later and tossed a wad of cash to Hosea. Hosea caught it, counted it, and seemed pleased.

“Pleasure doing business,” Hosea said with a smile. “And listen, we didn’t take it… least not without orders from-“

“Oh, I know exactly who gave you your orders,” she said, her voice rising. “Old Sheriff Gray! You know what? I don’t want it. In fact, sir, now you can do _me _a favor. An extra ten bucks if you do.”

Hosea remained quiet, but Arthur already knew they’d do it. Ten bucks wasn’t worth getting shot over, but it sure was useful.

“Drive that stuff into Rhodes, head over to the tavern run by Mr. Gray and give it out for free!”

Instantly one of the men disagreed but was quickly silenced by Mrs. Braithwaite. She sure did hate the Grays alright, enough to lose cash over it just to irritate him.

“I believe they call that a promotional expense,” Mrs. Braithwaite clarified.

Arthur looked over at Hosea and Hosea smiled, satisfied with their deal.

“We’ll get it done,” Hosea said.

“You boys come back sometime and tell me how you made out,” she turned back towards the house, pushing one of her boys out of the way. They instantly recoiled as if she’d punched them, moving out of her way. “Maybe we’ll play a little cribbage.”

Arthur had no idea what the hell that was, and he didn’t plan to find out anytime soon. They retreated back to the wagon as the Braithwaites went back inside their manor.

They started their journey back to Rhodes and Arthur decided to keep quiet. He had plenty of concerns about this brilliant plan, primarily that they were tryin’ to play both sides, but he didn’t voice any of them. He’d complained plenty, it was clear Hosea was content with getting this done. Hosea was smarter than him, that was for sure, Arthur’s worries could be nothin’.

“I finally sold those Cornwall bonds,” Hosea said as they left the Braithewaite’s property. “Got close to a thousand for ‘em.”

“For all that trouble?” Arthur scoffed.

It didn’t seem worth it anymore, not with the Pinkertons breathing down their necks.

“Believe me, I know,” Hosea sighed. “I wanted more, but that’s the best I could do with how hot they were… especially after that bloodbath in Valentine.”

He wasn’t wrong. After all the hell they’d raised, he was surprised anyone had bought the bonds. It was dangerous, especially with how vengeful Cornwall was. He’d paid Pinkertons for god’s sake. Angering him was a dumb move, one they seemed to keep making.

“Not bad at all,” Arthur agreed. “Glad we got anything.”

“Cornwall is putting a lot of cash in the Pinkertons, wants to keep their full effort on going after gangs… gangs like us,” Hosea said.

“Yeah, I know,” Arthur said.

He’d heard as much through Juliette. As much as Miguel and Daniel hated him, they didn’t mind sharing information about the Pinkertons. They liked to discuss the gang’s trouble; he was pretty sure they enjoyed it plenty. They’d been waiting for someone to take down the gang. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t rightly blame them either. They were bounty hunters, they thrived off of gangs getting split up. Made it easier to corner people off. 

They continued on towards Rhodes mostly in silence while Hosea thought over a plan. Arthur quite liked quiet moments like this on a mission, gave him some time to relax before what ever hell storm they were going to cause. Eventually, Hosea formed his plan and decided it was time to let Arthur in on it.

“This could get ugly,” Hosea said. “You and Dutch already have that… thing going on in town with the sheriff.”

“Mhm,” Arthur confirmed.

That was exactly why he was uncertain about all this; his face was already known by the Grays as one of their deputies. Now running off doing the Braithewaites bidding could get him in plenty of trouble.

“Now we’re inserting ourselves in his blood feud…” Hosea trailed off in thought as he considered this.

Arthur relaxed again, letting Hosea ponder this. The further they went down the path, the fewer trees there were. They didn’t have too much farther until they reached Rhodes. Arthur didn’t like being this far South, he knew the rest of the gang didn’t neither. The south had the worst people in Arthur’s opinion, but he hadn’t been all that far north either. He liked the west where you could shoot someone for lookin’ at you wrong and no one batted an eye. Down here it was more difficult, blood feuds resulted in giving away moonshine in saloons apparently. Arthur much preferred just shooting their rivals.

“We’ll need something,” Hosea finally said.

“Sure,” Arthur said.

He waited for Hosea to continue, but as he looked over at him dread filled him.

“I ain’t playing dress up,” Arthur said firmly. “You know how I feel about that.”

“Of course, not…,” Hosea paused several times as he continued, seemingly coming up with Arthur’s role on the spot. “You’re a clown’s…. idiot… brother.

Arthur let out a disgruntled noise, but Hosea ignored him.

“Hosea, please,” Arthur groaned.

“I’m the clown,” Hosea clarified. “You’re the idiot.”

“How’s that any better?!” Arthur demanded.

“All you have to do is keep quiet and look sad,” Hosea insisted. “Even you can do that, Arthur.”

“Do I have to?” Arthur grumbled.

Hosea reached up and stole away Arthur’s hat. Arthur let out a small huff in protest, but otherwise didn’t fight him. Hosea looked around the back of the wagon and pulled out a straw hat. He set it on Arthur’s head and studied him for a moment.

“Smoke this pipe,” Hosea said. Begrudgingly Arthur accepted it. Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to know why Hosea happened to have a pipe on hand. “Bring your lip forward, just a bit…” Hosea watched Arthur until he finally did as told and he smiled in satisfaction. “Squint… oh perfect!”

“What about you?” Arthur grumbled.

“You can’t speak,” Hosea continued, ignoring Arthur entirely. “Turned idiot.”

He was turned idiot alright. The moment he agreed to do any of this. Hosea ignored Arthur’s disapproving huffs and continued on with his own narrative.

“Quite broke poor mammy’s heart,” Hosea said dramatically. “There, there, Fenton, there, there. Don’t get mad, now.”

“Seems like you got a whole damn story, all you need is to write the book,” Arthur muttered irritably.

“Come now,” Hosea said. “This is all for the money, Fenton.”

Hosea enjoyed this far too much. He liked to dress up and play a part… Arthur wondered if it made him forget who they really were for a moment. Playing the part, acting like they were someone completely different. That was partially why Arthur hated it so much, it felt wrong. Every person he’d pretended to be, he was far worse than.

“And if we see any deputies?” Arthur asked.

“Well… we’ll work around it,” Hosea said. “If we do our jobs right, they’ll all be drunk enough not to recognize you. Just keep your head down, lip forward, and look real angry- hey that’s a good start!”

He set a hand on Arthur’s shoulder as he laughed. Arthur shook his head with a heavy sigh.

As they drew closer to Rhodes, the dirt grew redder, and the air clouded over with dust. He hated the south, he really fucking hated it.

It didn’t take long until they were rattling across the railroad tracks outside of Rhodes. The closer they got; the less Arthur protested. All he had to do was keep his head down and look scary. He could do that.

He kept his gaze set forward as they went through Rhodes. There were a couple horses situated outside the saloon. If Arthur had looked for a moment longer, he might’ve recognized two of the horses. Arthur brought the wagon to a halt around the side.

“Okay, Fenton,” Hosea said. Arthur’s eyes flashed angrily, and Hosea continued, “Stay calm now… for momma, she loved you so…” Arthur got down from the wagon and moved to the back. He pulled it down and dragged out a case of moonshine. “Just a shame you had to strangle her in a rage, right…” Well maybe this time Arthur was playing someone worse… then again, Fenton only killed one person. Arthur couldn’t count how many people he killed. “Grab two cases of that stuff and follow me.”

Arthur obeyed, stacking the cases on top of each other. He picked them up and walked after Hosea as he led the way towards the back. Two men were sitting on the edge of the door’s steps. Instantly Hosea waved towards them.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Hosea said merrily. “Quite the town you have here, we just rode in from up north.”

He wasn’t lyin’. It was _quite _the town. Worst one Arthur had visited. Valentine smelled of cattle and shit half the time, but it still was better than this hell.

By the time Arthur caught up to Hosea, he’d already introduced himself. Melvin was his new name. Hosea wasted no time explaining their sob story. Really liked saying Arthur- no, _Fenton _had turned idiot. Arthur tuned out of the conversation; he didn’t need to be a part of this.

It didn’t take long for Arthur to get rid of the two, sent them off with a bottle of moonshine and some cash. Hosea had earned them a solid half hour in the saloon. Pretty damn close to the amount of time Arthur wanted, none.

Hosea seemed happy with the deal they’d struck. He was quick to enter the back of the saloon. Hosea walked through the saloon easily, as if he’d done this a thousand times.

“Go on behind the bar, and I’ll get the crowd ready,” Hosea said.

Arthur nodded and headed out behind the bar. He set down the cases on the floor and pulled out a jug of moonshine as Hosea beamed at the saloon’s guests.

“Gentlemen,” Hosea said. “My name is Melvin. That’s my brother Fenton-“ Hosea indicated Arthur and Arthur instantly lowered his head, letting the brim of the hat hide his face. “He’s a bit funny- turned idiot, don’t make him mad, but boy he can pour drinks fast.” Hosea walked across the bar, waving his hands as he spoke. He was getting real into the advertising business. “For the next thirty minutes, the drinks in this bar here, in this here town, are entirely free! The only rule is that you gotta drink them, so hurry up! Put old Fenton to work!”

Instantly people started towards the bar and Hosea walked forward.

“But don’t make him mad,” Hosea warned. “His momma made him mad… and we buried her… poor thing.”

Hosea really liked the story he’d crafted. Arthur certainly didn’t like it, but at the very least people wouldn’t talk to him-

“Killed your own ma? Awfully harsh, señor,” a familiar voice drawled.

Arthur grimaced. Of course, the bastard was here.

“You gonna bury me?” Miguel cooed as he noticed Arthur’s glare.

“Careful,” Daniel chuckled. “This one’s turned idiot.”

Miguel let out a burst of laughter that rang painfully in Arthur’s ears. He tried to ignore them and poured out a drink. Hosea took notice of the two and frowned. Hosea walked over towards them, while Arthur continued to pour drinks. Empty glass after empty glass was put in front of him. These fools were going to get drunk off of their asses.

An empty glass slid from his right and Arthur poured it.

“Thanks, señor,” Miguel cackled. “Fenton, wasn’t it?”

“Gentlemen,” Hosea said with a chuckle. “Don’t test him. He’s got a horrible temper-“

“Bad enough to shoot up a town?” Daniel asked. “Or three?”

Hosea didn’t answer, his eyes narrowing.

“Don’t you worry,” Daniel said as he downed the glass. “You got a whole storm of trouble, but we ain’t it.” 

“You don’t say?” Hosea asked.

“Yeah,” Miguel said. “Fenton, how about another?”

Arthur filled his glass, glaring Miguel down. Miguel winked at him and Arthur felt his skin crawl with aggravation. The two were far too aware Arthur wouldn’t touch them. He _hated _it. Usually he could intimidate people, he looked awfully threatening, but they knew. He wouldn’t dare even hit them in his right mind, he wouldn’t risk it. Even if he wanted to.

For the next half hour time would move quick only to come to a screeching halt as he’d hear a snarky comment. He was surprised the two were so restraint, as the saloon grew loud and rowdy, the two remained firmly at the bar counter.

“Why are y’all still sober?” Arthur grumbled. “We’re in a saloon, for Chrissake.”

“I want to forget a lot,” Miguel began with a smirk. “But Fenton is not one of them.”

Daniel chuckled. Arthur was pretty sure he’d never seen the bastard smile until today.

“Glad you two are enjoyin’ this,” Arthur grumbled.

Music started up at the piano and instantly jumbled melodies followed. Everyone in the saloon was drunk besides four people. Arthur wanted to drown this out with a bottle of moonshine, but Arthur never got a moment to stop. The moonshine went fast, faster than Arthur had expected. Hosea had brought in every case as Arthur ran out, but it wasn’t enough.

People danced around the saloon, acting wild, jumping on tables, breaking every goddamn thing in the saloon. Finally, Arthur understood why bartenders were so angry, this was their hell every night of the week. Next time he went to a saloon, Arthur swore he’d be more restraint.

Just as they’d reached the last case, trouble started. A loud voice shouted as a group of people walked in the front.

“It’s Lemoyne Raiders!”

Arthur looked up at Hosea as he walked down the staircase.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Hosea began. “Quiet libation?”

“You,” a raider snapped angrily.

“Me?” Hosea repeated, feigning surprise.

Arthur reached down for his pistol slowly. He heard shuffling beside him and glanced over to see both Miguel and Daniel standing up, both already holding guns. Arthur’s gaze slid forward as the raiders continued.

“You’re the bastards who stole the liquor we was going to buy!”

Arthur grimaced. He knew this was a dumb idea.

“Gentlemen,” Hosea began. “We’re in advertising! Come on in, have a drink!”

People moved out of the way, leaving a direct line from the door to Arthur.

“That’s our goddamn liquor!” a raider shouted angrily.

“An honest mistake-“ Hosea began.

“Boys get ‘em-“ A loud bang sounded from Arthur’s right and the raider fell dead.

Arthur ducked behind the counter but could still hear Miguel over the shots firing around him.

“Guess we are having more fun today than I thought,” Miguel said. “Ready for a gunfight, Danny?”

“Christ you promised this time it wouldn’t end in a fight-“

“This wasn’t my fault!” Miguel protested.

Idiots, the both of them.

Arthur pulled his pistol and waited for the shots to subside. He leaned up over the counter and aimed for a raider, shooting for his head. The raider crumbled and Arthur aimed for the next, winging his right side. Instantly another bullet followed his, killing the raider. Arthur glanced over to see Miguel smirking.

“Stairs,” Daniel growled.

Arthur looked up and lined up a shot on the raider climbing up them to gain an advantage. He shot him twice, before taking cover. More shots rang out, before silence finally filled the saloon.

“What a day,” Miguel laughed. “Who’d think we’d be shooting with señorita’s outlaw?”

“I hate saloons,” Daniel said.

“Thanks,” Arthur grumbled.

“Good job, Arthur,” Hosea called.

Arthur looked over to see Hosea walking down the set of stairs.

“That’s all of them, but we should get out of here before the law gets wise,” Hosea said.

“They won’t,” Daniel scoffed. “They’re drunk themselves.”

Hosea frowned at him, trying to decide if he trusted Daniel enough.

“Bounty hunters, are you?” Hosea asked.

“Sure,” Daniel said.

He stood up finally and offered Miguel a hand. He hauled him to his feet, before looking at Hosea.

“In advertising now?” Daniel asked.

“Sure am,” Hosea said. “Fine art, isn’t it?” 

Daniel scoffed and headed towards the door. Miguel followed, grinning.

“Adios, Fenton,” Miguel cackled.

He hummed out a song as he left. He was far too goddamn happy. 

“You know them?” Hosea asked.

“Sort of,” Arthur muttered.

Hosea raised an eyebrow and Arthur grimaced. He wasn’t about to explain how he knew the two.

“Seemed awfully friendly,” Hosea said. “Acted like they knew you wouldn’t hurt them. The Arthur I know wouldn’t take that lying down… unless-“

“It ain’t nothin’, Hosea,” Arthur sighed. “They’re friends of a friend, alright? Ain’t nothin’ more.”

“Right,” Hosea said, but Arthur had a sneaking suspicion this wasn’t the last he’d hear about it. “At any rate, we should return to camp-“

“Actually, Hosea,” Arthur began. “Would you mind goin’ back without me? Reckon I got some business to attend to.”

Hosea stared at him long and hard.

“Alright then,” Hosea said. “Don’t let me hold you up, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded and lifted himself across the bar, walking quickly towards the saloon entrance. He whistled for Whiskey and after a moment he trotted up. Arthur mounted him and rode him out into the town, his gaze hunting for-

“We can make it back easy,” Miguel said.

Arthur looked around for them and saw they had barely made it past the sheriff’s office. He spurred Whiskey on to catch up to them.

“I don’t like it,” Daniel scoffed. “Shouldn’t have happened in the first place-“

He stopped suddenly as he spotted Arthur.

“Done playing bar tender?” Daniel asked, amusement lingering in his voice.

“For the moment,” Arthur agreed. “Listen… thanks for…”

“Don’t thank us,” Daniel said. “Only saving ourselves.”

Arthur nodded.

“What do you want?” Miguel asked with a smirk.

“Have you…” Arthur trailed off for a moment, letting his gaze wander.

“Yes?” Miguel pressed. “Have we, what, Fenton?”

“Have you seen Juliette around?” Arthur finally asked.

It’d been a couple days since he’d last seen her and if he was honest, it felt more like weeks. He wasn’t quite sure how that worked. He reckoned he’d been working too much. He wanted a break… and he wanted to hear her voice.

He wouldn’t look at either of them. Arthur didn’t want to see their smirks.

“I don’t know, have we, Daniel?” Miguel asked.

“Reckon we must’ve,” Daniel said. “When was that?”

“Just the other day, wasn’t it?” Miguel asked.

“Reckon so,” Daniel said.

Arthur gritted his teeth in aggravation. They were having too much fun with this. 

“Remember where?” Arthur asked, fighting to keep his tone even.

“Think I do,” Miguel said. “What’s in it for me?”

Arthur looked up at Miguel with a frown and Miguel laughed.

“You make it to easy, señor,” Miguel laughed. “We saw her up by Emerald ranch. Where was she heading after, do you remember?”

This time, the question was genuine. Arthur relaxed some. So, they were finally done taunting him.

“Nah,” Daniel said. “Didn’t hear where the woman was from, don’t think she said till after they left.”

“Woman?” Arthur questioned.

“More of a devil,” Miguel scoffed.

Daniel smiled slightly and shook his head.

“Wasn’t all that bad, just rightfully frightened,” Daniel reasoned. “Your best shot is up by Emerald ranch.”

“Thanks,” Arthur said.

He dipped his head and guided Whiskey on, with a new destination in mind. It was a long way to ride, but it was only midafternoon. He didn’t have anywhere else to be and he was all to desperate to see her again.

Arthur followed their guidance and headed towards Emerald ranch. The ride was relaxing, calmed his remaining adrenaline from the fight. The air was brisk, but not so cold it stung to breathe. The sky had cleared up, the sun shining down on them. Felt like a great day to find a spot and sit. They hadn’t done that in a while. Been too busy, he reckoned. Last time they’d really relaxed together had been before Valentine. There had been quiet days while she was healing, but it wasn’t really the same. Neither of them was relaxed, both were waiting for gunshots.

_I am not well liked. _Arthur still didn’t like the implications of what Juliette had said. She’d seemed so surprised that the man had shot her over a bounty. Who else would try to kill her? He wondered how much of it could potentially follow her from France. She seemed nervous some of it would.

Time seemed to travel quickly as he rode, before he knew it he was in the Heartlands. He knew his quest could quite possibly lead to nothing, but he felt like it was worth trying. He wanted to spend the rest of his day at least looking for her, to know he’d tried. Arthur wasn’t sure how much time he’d have tomorrow, if he’d be bombarded with more missions, but for now his time was his.

As he continued down the well-worn path, he spotted a strange group in the distance off to the right of the path. They were settled around the base of a cliff, partially in its shade. He counted roughly twenty people, a bunch hunched over in groups, with two guards at the front. There were some horses and wagons off to the side, along with several small canvas tents. Closer to the people stood a larger tent.

He looked back to the horses and spotted Fleur. He smiled slowly and guided Whiskey off of the path, heading towards the group.

Arthur’s gaze travelled across the group slowly, surveying each person. The guards stood around the site, both sporting rifles. Young men were grouped around different sections of land, holding small brushes and delicate tools. What they were doing, Arthur had no idea. An old woman was barking orders as she walked between the groups and following her was Juliette. Arthur smiled slightly. She seemed annoyed, looked like she was arguing with the woman.

Arthur dismounted Whiskey and instantly Whiskey wandered off towards the other horses. Arthur shook his head, before looking back at the group. Some of the men stared at him with wide eyes, talking in hushed whispers. Arthur rolled his eyes and focused back on Juliette and the woman she was talking to. The woman was wearing a white blouse that was speckled with dirt, a long gray skirt, and a tan hat. Rounded glasses were perched on the edge of her hooked nose.

Arthur walked towards them, but instantly the guard shifted, his finger inching towards the rifle’s trigger.

“Don’t got no business here,” the guard said sharply. “Move along now.”

“Ain’t doin’ no harm,” Arthur said.

Made sense Juliette could go in without getting threatened, she certainly looked more proper than him. Juliette seemed to notice the commotion and peered over. Instantly she smiled, her eyes lighting up.

“He is with me,” Juliette said.

He felt a surge of pride and stood up taller at that. He was with her.

The guard eyed Arthur warily, before finally nodding.

“Cause any trouble ‘n I won’t mind shooting you,” the guard reminded.

“Don’t plan to,” Arthur said.

He’d gotten shot at too much already for his liking.

He walked over to Juliette and the woman, but already they were moving again. The woman chastised two of the men- boys, really, didn’t look older than eighteen- about not taking their work seriously.

“What exactly is your work?” Arthur asked uncertainly.

“Oh great, another uneducated cowboy!” The woman said haughtily. “But at least you are not a spy!”

She shot Juliette a dirty look and Juliette’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The woman didn’t notice, but instead continued roaming between the different groups.

“What will it take to convince you I am not a spy?” Juliette asked, frustration shining in her voice.

“Identification of any kind,” The woman snapped. “but that can be forged! You know everyone is after my work! But the college refuses to listen to me! That send me out here with a bunch of degenerates and two guards?! The nerve! It is like they are begging for us to be robbed!”

“Who would want to rob y’all?” Arthur asked.

His eyebrows scrunched in thought as he looked around again. He didn’t see any reason to, nothing was worth the trouble.

“Rival colleagues and colleges, who knows! This is a discovery of a lifetime-“

“Hardly,” Juliette said under her breath.

The woman glared at her, but Juliette seemed unaffected. 

“You know as well as I do this entire country has been picked a part already,” Juliette said. “The fossils you have found here are in poor condition. It would be a waste of time if I _was _a spy.”

Arthur glanced between them, uncertain of what kind of a standoff they were having. He couldn’t quite figure out why Juliette would even bother arguing with this woman, what was in it for her?

“A photographer,” the woman said under her breath. “I am being blackmailed by a photographer!”

“Call it what you will,” Juliette said. “I see it as an incentive. I am not asking much.”

“I am not letting this get away from me,” the woman said. “You know the problems I am facing, the rush for these ancient beasts is nearing an end! I will take what I can get, even if the remains are… in regrettable shape.”

“Ancient beasts?” Arthur asked.

He looked over as they passed another group. He could just see what they were uncovering, ivory peeked out from under the sand and dirt. It looked similar to what he and Juliette had found a while back.

“Dinosaurs,” the woman explained. Arthur must have looked unsure as she continued emphatically, “Big lizards that used to rule this land.”

“Those were real?” Arthur asked uneasily, his gaze looking around warily. 

“Were,” Juliette confirmed. “All that remains are the skeletons.”

He looked back to her and noticed her amused smile. He was an idiot alright. He smiled and shook his head.

“And they certainly are rare,” the woman said. “Rare enough that I could not tell anyone where our dig site was, and yet still we have been harassed!” 

The woman marched off towards the large canvas tent off to the side of the site. The sides of the tent were drawn, allowing Arthur to peer inside. Two large tables were set up, covered with papers, maps, and tools he couldn’t identify.

“Made a new friend?” Arthur mused.

“Hardly,” Juliette muttered. “But if she truly did not like me, she would have forced me out… I just have to find the right bargain…”

“Blackmail, you mean?” Arthur asked.

“If it comes to it,” Juliette said. “She is being _impossible. _I have negotiated far less generous terms before without any problems, but she refuses to be reasonable. No wonder the college sent her all this way, she is insufferable.”

Arthur chuckled. 

“What are you even askin’ for?” Arthur asked.

“A photograph,” Juliette explained. “I know, I am asking an incredible amount! It would have taken moments and would not halt their progress, but her invisible enemies are waiting for a moment to strike and I apparently am the harbinger of her demise.”

“Harbinger?” Arthur asked.

That was a word he hadn’t heard before. Not that he was surprised, Juliette used a lot of words he’d only heard once or twice his entire life.

“Yes, it is like…” Juliette trailed off.

She was looking around the dig site, her gaze slowly tracing over the various groups, before moving to the armed guard. Arthur waited patiently; he wasn’t in a rush. After the day he’d had, he didn’t particularly want to go back to camp. Hosea’s idiot brother. He wasn’t that old and wasn’t that stupid. He didn’t like acting, he preferred to just look intimidating and threaten people. Usually it worked fine for him.

“Like a person that’s a signal-“

Arthur looked over to see one of the workers was walking towards them. He didn’t look like the type of person that belonged out here. He was scrawny, with pale freckled skin, red hair, and a fierce sunburn on his neck. He had a pistol on his belt, but Arthur doubted he’d ever used it.

“Yes,” Juliette confirmed.

She studied the boy with a frown, her gaze evaluating him swiftly. The boy froze under her gaze, losing what courage he had.

“Can I help you?” Juliette asked, her voice sharp and commanding.

Arthur looked to her in mild surprise. He hadn’t ever heard that voice from her. It was harsh with a ringing irritation, as if just the act of the boy speaking to her was a mistake. Clearly, it was. 

“I uh- no, but uh-“

Juliette watched him with an annoyed look that only made his stutter worse. Arthur almost pitied the boy. If he were smarter, he would’ve left then. It was clear Juliette didn’t want to talk to him.

“Well uh.. ma’am- miss- mademoiselle?” He seemed to be running through a list of all the words he knew for addressing women, like he’d strike the right one and Juliette wouldn’t be mad anymore.

“Christ, boy,” Arthur scoffed. “Pick one ‘n stick to it.”

“R-right, uh, miss Bellerose,” the boy began.

Juliette’s gaze turned harsh, her eyes narrowing. The boy stopped again and adjusted his belt nervously, unused to its weight. His hand grazed his pistol and instinctively Arthur’s hand moved to his own. The boy noticed and seemed frightened. Arthur moved his hand away and scowled.

“Shouldn’t touch your gun unless you plan to shoot,” Arthur cautioned. “Folks don’t take well to it.”

“Right,” he mumbled. He looked between Juliette and Arthur as if he was trying to figure out which was the lesser of two evils. His gaze finally returned to Juliette as his courage seemed to return. “Well… I just… I can talk to the professor, for-”

“No,” Juliette said, swiftly cutting him off. “We are not here to interfere with your work. I assume you are here for some form of credit; you should be focused on earning it.”

Without another look, Juliette walked towards the tent. The boy watched her with a nervous gaze. He looked back to the group he’d left from and the boys exchanged a look. One of them made a motion for him to try again and Arthur frowned at him.

“Get back to your work,” Arthur said. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Arthur watched him closely until finally the boy returned to his group. After a moment, Arthur turned and walked back to the tent.

The professor was studying a map while Juliette was examining the room, her eyes scanning over the documents and pictures scattered around. Something clicked in her gaze and she smiled. Arthur watched her curiously. What had she seen?

“I have not heard of your work,” Juliette said.

“You will,” the professor assured.

“Professor Johnson, correct?” Juliette asked.

She watched her closely, waiting for her reaction.

“Dr., actually,” Dr. Johnson said frustratedly.

“Oh, I am sorry,” Juliette said. “Your students call you professor… the few people I have spoken to around the college have referred to you as a professor as well.”

Dr. Johnson’s irritation seemed to rise.

“Of course, they do,” she snapped. “No one listens to me or acknowledges my work! They all say I missed my moment, but here I am.”

“I understand,” Juliette reassured.

Juliette moved around the tent, but she was no longer studying each object. She looked a lot more like a wolf circling unsuspecting prey.

“It never is easy,” Juliette continued. “Overlooked and overshadowed… sent out with students barely old enough to live on their own. If the remains were in pristine condition, these boys could not handle them properly.”

“No, they can’t,” Dr. Johnson agreed, her tone scathing. “They’re a handful to manage! Entirely unworthy of this mission, but they are what I was given! I was promised scholars, not imbeciles.”

“They hardly seem to understand the magnitude of this discovery,” Juliette commented. “This area has been picked clean already, but you found what was undiscovered. Quite possibly the only fossils left.”

“Yes, exactly,” Dr. Johnson said.

She looked up at Juliette for a moment, before looking back to the map. Arthur looked down to the map to see several locations scratched out already. How long had they been out here looking?  
“I know you can not risk information getting leaked,” Juliette continued. “You have only scraps, but they are all you have…”

Dr. Johnson didn’t say anything, but her gaze was no longer surveying the map. Her eyes remained still; her entire focus was on Juliette. Arthur couldn’t help but smile slightly. This felt entirely too familiar, something he’d heard Hosea do. Course he found himself more impressed by Juliette, not once did Dr. Johnson seem suspicious. Instead she was listening intently, waiting for Juliette to continue. Juliette certainly knew how to command attention; it was hard not to listen to her. If she told him to step in front of a train, he’d have a hard time arguing.

“Unless of course… there was another fossil,” Juliette said. “All it would take really is one pristine fossil, one that has not suffered from the weather. One that has been protected all these years.”

“That is the dream,” Dr. Johnson sighed. “That would make them take me seriously, at the very least. Archaeology is a well-respected science… but I am one of the few unlucky to have missed the golden era of fossils.”

“I could help you,” Juliette said.

Dr. Johnson looked up at Juliette uncertainly, her eyes lighting up. She stared at Juliette expectantly, as if she was waiting for Juliette to pull a fossil from behind her back.

“You are not an archaeologist,” Dr. Johnson said.

“No, I am not,” Juliette agreed. “Just a traveler who stumbled upon something of interest.”

Juliette reached into her satchel and pulled out a journal. Arthur hadn’t ever seen that. Was it new? Juliette opened it and retrieved a picture. She set it on the table, in front of Dr. Johnson. 

“Unfair that someone as I simply found it,” Juliette continued. “Truly, it is a horrible irony. All it means to me was an interesting photograph… I have no purpose in reporting it to a college, dragging out a team…”

“Where is it?”

Juliette took the picture back and hid it back into her journal as Dr. Johnson watched her desperately.

“Where was it, Arthur?” Juliette mused.

Dr. Johnson looked to him instantly, searching him for information. She had not looked at him before for more than a second, but now her entire focus was locked onto him. Arthur shrugged unhelpfully. He knew what his part was in this.

He liked this game a lot more when he was on the side with information.

“Reckon I don’t really remember,” Arthur said.

“I wrote down the location,” Juliette said. “Just in case we needed it again.”

Arthur looked over at her. She was enjoying this. Couldn’t blame her much, Arthur wasn’t having a bad time neither.

“Now… I suppose I could find another,” Juliette said. “Now that we know it is worth something… they would of course scour the area for weeks after. Searching everywhere around it, taking what little else this land has to offer.”

Dr. Johnson watched Juliette closely with a frown. They both knew where this was going.

“Or… we could strike a deal,” Juliette proposed. “I help you and… you help me.”

“You publish a photograph of us, and they’ll be out here anyway,” Dr. Johnson growled. “My career will be over.”

“Is it not already?” Juliette asked. “Look at who they sent you with. Your protection? Two guards for a group of twenty three?”

Dr. Johnson didn’t reply, but it was clear what Juliette had said struck a chord as her eyebrows quirked together in frustration.

“I am not in a rush to have the prints made,” Juliette said. “If you move fast, you will not have to worry about me and my photograph.”

Dr. Johnson considered this for a moment.

“Truthfully, I have no stake in this,” Juliette said. “You can reject my offer and I will find someone else. However,… you and I both know you deserve this recognition more than they do.”

Juliette closed her journal and walked towards the tent’s exit. Arthur looked to the professor a moment, before following after Juliette.

“Fine,” Dr. Johnson said. “You can take your damn picture. Just don’t bother my students, they’re already to distracted.”

“Excellent,” Juliette said.

She opened her journal and Arthur glanced at it to see it was mostly scribbled cursive text with few diagrams in it. He tried to decipher it, but couldn’t quite figure out if it was English, French, or some other language. It made his head hurt just trying to read it.

Juliette pulled out the photograph and flipped through her journal to a specific page. She turned the photograph over and looed through her satchel for something. After a second Arthur realized what she was looking for and pulled out his own pen. He offered it to her, and she accepted it with a smile.

“_Merci,_” Juliette said. Now that had to be French, he was pretty damn sure it was too nice of a word to be English.

Juliette wrote on the back of the picture, her writing was much neater, enough so Arthur could make out the words. _New Heartlands. _She continued to detail the location better and after a moment seemed sufficiently satisfied. 

“I am going to assume you do not need any more proof,” Juliette said.

Dr. Johnson hesitated, clearly tempted to ask for more.

“I will not offer more,” Juliette clarified. “This is what our bargain is for. The picture should be enough evidence it is in good condition and the location will take you to it.”

“Alright,” Dr. Johnson said. “If this is a ruse-“

“What do I have to gain from wasting your time?” Juliette asked dismissively. “Now, if you will excuse me, the light is fading.”

“Of course,” Dr. Johnson said begrudgingly. “Don’t tell any of the students.”

“As you wish,” Juliette said.

Arthur followed Juliette out of the tent with an amused smile.

“All that for a picture?” Arthur asked.

Juliette shrugged.

“I did not have any big plans for today,” Juliette said. “And she did say no to me, I quite like a challenge.”

“Oh, I know that,” Arthur chuckled. “Wolves taught me that.”

“Will you ever let that go?” Juliette asked.

“Nah, I reckon not,” Arthur said. “Hard thing to forget.”

“Hmm… I suppose so,” Juliette agreed. “I thought you were a cowboy, I assumed you had been in peril plenty of times to sleep well enough after.”

“That wasn’t it,” Arthur said. “Y’know I worried for a week after if you’d try and get yourself killed again.”

“Worried about me, Arthur?” Juliette asked.

She turned to face him, smiling brightly.

“Too much,” Arthur admitted.

Juliette’s smile grew.

“Glad to know I have made an impression,” Juliette said.

She turned and continued towards the horses undoubtedly, to get her camera. Arthur followed readily.

“More than an impression,” Arthur chuckled.

He was glad to be with her again. He felt far too content by her side, he knew he’d have a hard time leaving again. 

Once they reached the horses, Fleur moved towards them. Arthur patted her gently while Juliette removed her camera.

“Tell me, Arthur, what have you been up to today?” Juliette asked.

Arthur grimaced. He didn’t want to talk about that. Laughter still echoed in his ears.

“That bad?” Juliette asked.

She moved to stand in front of him, her green eyes soft and inviting. Desperately Arthur wanted to reach out to her, but he remained still.

Juliette leaned up and instantly Arthur shifted down. Her free hand moved to his cheek, warm and gentle. She kissed him briefly, her hand moving to the back of his head, running through his hair. Far too soon, she stepped back away from him.

“I am sorry,” Juliette said quietly.

“Hm?”

She smiled and he realized what he meant.

“It’s gotten a lot better,” Arthur murmured.

“I am glad,” Juliette said. 

After a moment, they headed back towards the group. Juliette walked around the outskirts of the group with a thoughtful frown. She moved back and looked up again, before shifting over. It took a couple minutes for Juliette to find her preferred spot, before finally setting up her camera.

“Think it was worth it?” Arthur asked as she took the first picture.

“I believe so,” Juliette said.

“How’s that?” Arthur asked.

“You joined us, after all,” Juliette said.

“That a good thing?” Arthur asked.

“Of course,” Juliette said instantly.

He was glad to hear that. He was still waiting for the day when she’d turn him away, no longer humor him. Some part of him was beginning to question if it would come… after Valentine, he’d been certain that was it. Yet here they were. She’d smiled when she spotted him. _He’s with me. _

The guards watched them closely at first, but quickly grew bored. Arthur wondered if they had been hoping for him to start something, to make it interesting. Their rifles remained slack by their side.

“With any luck, this will be decent,” Juliette said. “After all that debate, I would hate for it to be terrible.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Arthur said. “Did a good job with the wolves.”

“That was a miracle,” Juliette chuckled. “I have gotten far worse photographs standing still.”

By the time Juliette had finished, the sun had dipped down towards the horizon. She had not taken too long, but they’d spent plenty of time arguing with the woman. As Juliette began to pack up her camera, the camp began to follow suit. Arthur watched the groups as Dr. Johnson snapped at some boys, before retiring back to her tent.

Juliette’s gaze settled on the boy that had spoken to her earlier, before she turned and started back towards the horses.

“Don’t trust him?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Juliette said. “I do not like that he knew my name, he certainly did not overhear it.”

Arthur nodded. He was plenty used to that, people knowing his name without an introduction was never a good sign.

“I do not think he understands the act of him acknowledging me was enough of a threat,” Juliette said. “I am not his professor; it is not my job to teach him.”

“Reckon so,” Arthur agreed.

He whistled and instantly their horses started over, Fleur leading the way. He was surprised she’d listened to him, but grateful, nonetheless. As the horses reached them, Juliette moved to stow away her camera into Fleur’s saddlebags.

She mounted Fleur and Arthur followed suit. They started away from the excavation site, heading back towards the road. Once the were a safe distance away, Arthur spoke again.

“Think he’ll cause trouble?” Arthur asked.

He looked back at the guards, before letting his gaze settle back on Juliette.

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. “Hopefully I am overthinking it, but… it would only take a letter to his family and everything would change. I did not leave on good terms, but I had the courtesy to be discrete. The moment more people know… well I cannot foresee my parents’ reactions.”

“Think they’d try ‘n kill you?” Arthur asked uneasily.

Juliette did not answer immediately. She took a moment to consider his question, her eyes clouding over with a storm of thoughts.

“Possibly,” Juliette finally said. “I have no evidence, but… I suspect it would not be the first time.”

Arthur stared at her in disbelief.

“And you only just ran away?” Arthur asked.

“I never claimed to be intelligent,” Juliette said with a soft chuckle. “It is easy to be swayed by other’s calling you paranoid. I had no proof and everyone around me acted as if the idea was ludicrous.”

He understood what it was like to have everyone saying you were wrong. He’d felt it firsthand when John had come back to the gang. Felt like he was the only one that remembered how long the bastard had been gone, how easily he’d left. 

“Reckon you’re a lot smarter than me,” Arthur said.

“In some ways,” Juliette said with a shrug. “But you are smarter than me in plenty of ways.”

“How’s that?” Arthur scoffed.

Juliette looked over at him, her eyes bright.

“As you keep reminding me, I nearly got us eaten by wolves,” Juliette said. “I feel like you are smarter than that.”

“Maybe so,” Arthur agreed.

They rode for a while further, before finding a place to rest for the evening. They settled under a large tree with wide overhanging branches that cast shade down onto them. Arthur was grateful this had been what they were heading to, he’d wanted to rest. Evidently, so had Juliette.

She rested with a book in her lap, while Arthur pulled out his journal. He hadn’t written anything all day and figured it was time to catch up. It was a cathartic activity for him, to write down everything interesting that had happened to him. It gave him a better perspective on things, Hosea would say. He wouldn’t admit it around the gang, but he relied a lot on his journal. He’d been upset when his last one burned.

Comfortable silence settled over them and Arthur leaned back against the tree, letting his gaze roam. It was hard to imagine earlier that day he’d been shot at, right now he was far from it. He noticed Juliette hadn’t turned a page in her book for a while and looked over to her. She was staring off into the distance, her gaze settled on something he couldn’t see.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Arthur asked.

Juliette did not answer immediately, she remained quiet long enough Arthur wondered if she’d heard him. Finally, she did speak, her voice gentle and faraway.

“There was someone I knew a long time ago,” Juliette murmured. “I met a girl that reminded me of her recently.”

Arthur looked up at Juliette curiously. Her tone had shifted, it sounded heavy with a ringing sadness.

“Who was she?” Arthur asked.

He could guess it didn’t end well, whatever happened. He had grown accustomed to that tone; he’d heard it plenty. Hosea had it for a while after Bessy, and Abigail when John left, even Sadie sometimes when she reminisced about Jake. Arthur was sure he’d had it a couple times, more than he’d care to admit.

“She owned a bookstore,” Juliette said. “She had a little boy, Felix, he was only two when I met him. Her husband had died after he was born, and she was trying to run the business on her own… I of course had been sent to investigate the area, find cracks so we could expand.”

“And?” Arthur asked.

He couldn’t see Juliette forcing out a mother and her child, but… he rightfully didn’t know her back then. He knew she couldn’t imagine him murdering in cold blood until he’d done it in Valentine. He still couldn’t shake the look in her eyes then, the deep betrayal.

“Well… I lingered,” Juliette murmured. “Edmond figured it out, I am pretty sure, but he did not say much. We were friends back then, I trusted him… more than when we were engaged, ironically.”

Arthur studied her for a moment and Juliette sighed, abandoning her book. She leaned back against the tree, abandoning her book.

“You know, she was very beautiful,” Juliette said. “Her hair was dark, always in a braid, she claimed it was faster in the morning. Felix would throw a fit if she was not quick to tend to him, as kids do.”

Arthur smiled slightly. That sounded familiar. Eliza had lamented to him plenty of times how Isaac would wake up at ungodly hours and give her no time to get ready herself. He should’ve been around more to help her, give her some more time in the morning… He should’ve done a lot of things back then. Should’ve left the gang the moment Isaac was born.

“What happened?”

His voice was quiet, the words escaping him before he’d considered them.

“I do not know,” Juliette finally said. “There was a week where I had other affairs to attend to, you know, something I thought was so terribly important.” Her voice sounded bitter, filled with resentment. “Of course, I was not there… but Camille needed me and I was off doing God knows what. When I returned, the store had been cleared out and no one knew where they had gone.”

As Juliette spoke Arthur found himself sketching a woman’s face in his journal, one with braided dark hair. His lines were gentle and uncertain, the face vague, and the eyes a soft gray. He didn’t realize Juliette had been watching him for a moment, before he realized she was not talking. He looked back at her to see her gaze on him, smiling gently.

“You always find a way to impress me, Arthur,” Juliette said with a small chuckle.

“I do?” Arthur asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” Juliette said. “You never mentioned you could draw.”

“Can’t really,” Arthur muttered. “Just a habit ‘s all.”

Juliette shrugged.

“Either way, I like it,” Juliette said. “You did a wonderful job. Tell me how does a cowboy become an artist?”

“I ain’t,” Arthur chuckled. “Hosea bought me a journal after… well… it’s a long story.”

“I have the time,” Juliette reassured.

Arthur smiled.

“Well… I uh… I sort of…” Arthur trailed off uneasily, trying to find his words. Juliette waited for him patiently. “I had a uh… rough time when I was younger, managing my… temper and what not.”

Juliette contemplated this, before nodding.

“That does make sense,” Juliette said. “Just with your upbringing… I can imagine it was volatile.”

“Sometimes,” Arthur agreed. “Wasn’t easy. Got harder when the gang got bigger, y’know, thought I was… in charge somehow as a kid.”

“Don’t we all?” Juliette asked with a slight smile.

“Reckon so,” Arthur said. “John was just as bad as me, but… I always stopped him from getting into too much trouble.”

“Was anyone there for you?”

“Not really,” Arthur admitted. “Hosea and Dutch tried their best, but… it ain’t easy. I wasn’t their kid, not really.”

“And the journal?” Juliette asked.

“Right,” Arthur murmured. He’d nearly forgotten that was the original question. “Hosea got it for me… cheaper solution than bailing out of jail every other day.”

“Does it work?”

“Most of the time,” Arthur said. “Helps me reevaluate the situation, y’know. Had a dangerous habit on acting instead of thinkin’. Slows me down some from jumping before I look.”

Juliette nodded, considering this.

“You got a journal, don’t you?” Arthur questioned.

“Well not like yours,” Juliette said. “It is just for recording information… a habit of my old life. You know, information is the richest currency. Could not risk forgetting something.”

Arthur shrugged. He’d heard that plenty from Hosea and Dutch, but he wasn’t sure he believed it yet. Money seemed like the richest currency to him, couldn’t buy a horse with words… well maybe Juliette could, but he certainly couldn’t.

Juliette shifted closer towards Arthur, resting her head against his shoulder. Arthur instantly moved an arm around her without thought. For a moment he worried he’d gone to far, but Juliette seemed content.

He relaxed again, taking in a deep breath. If he wasn’t careful, he’d never want to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was one of those chapters that I'd written parts of before and was generally excited to get here?? like when I first played rdr2 a moment I'll never forget is Arthur doing the fucking head turn to check for dinosaurs god i love a dumb cowboy  
we're very close to the ending of this "Chapter" I think two more updates and it'll be the next block? At least in my mind I'm sectioning it off from like Pre- Widowmakers, Post - widowmakers, and then the next major event  
wildly enough this fic is also at 100k words??? god it feels like I just started it but uh that's not true  
you can like... clearly tell where i didn't go back and edit bc there's just like miles of dialogue... but i honestly was ready to post this so here we are haha  
anyways, let me know what you guys think!! and how you're all doing :)


	17. Birds of a Feather

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we're quarantined huh? wild shit happening, but i'm just going to write dumb cowboys and pretend it's all ok  
just out of curiosity how long have you guys been under quarantine/not allowed at school/work or are you allowed to go still? My university kicked us out Friday. they sort of tricked us by not saying housing was closed until late thursday and we had to be out by friday night (you can request a late stay but like... rude).  
hope everyone's safe and healthy <3 in the meantime ao3's a nice escape. i suddenly have a lot more time to write so we'll see how far we get haha

After running into the expedition, Juliette had wandered further south. She had not liked being close to Valentine, being near it still brought her back to that day. It was something that Juliette was unsure how she had found herself forgiving him so easily. From others, it would be unforgivable. But… this was Arthur. It was hard to stay mad at him, he sulked, knowing he was wrong. She supposed that was half the battle, being aware it was wrong… Juliette was beginning to wonder if he would ever be able to stop, if he would always keep repeating the same actions.

Juliette sighed heavily. This was not something she wanted to be thinking about. Slowly, Juliette surveyed her surroundings. She was not particularly close to Rhodes, but somewhere between it and Emerald Ranch. She knew further east was Saint Denis, but Juliette was not quite ready to return to civilization.

As she wandered, Juliette kept an eye out for anything particularly interesting. Lately her taste in photography had wandered from dangerous to anything of interest, something she would never have seen in France. Juliette was beginning to learn there was a lot in life she had not experienced, many types of people she had not spoken to, places she had not been. A lot of her life experiences had been quick, remembered by what she gained from it. She had been to many countries in Europe, but she was certain now she had not truly experienced any of it.

Her quest was futile, everything between Rhodes and Valentine was utterly predictable. Not much point stopping to photograph a farmhouse, it was not an uncommon sight. Juliette was about to give up, when finally, she saw something. A wide winged bird flew overheard, gliding through the air. It was large, with brilliant feathers that shined bronze under the sunlight. It let out a single caw, before circling back around.

Juliette watched in amazement for a moment.

“_Do you think it will land_?” Juliette asked Fleur.

Fleur twitched an ear.

“_It is worth looking, right?”_

Juliette stared at the falcon as it soared over a forest, circling, before diving down.

“_What do you think it is doing?_”

Juliette guided Fleur off of the path, towards the edge of the forest. Fleur moved slowly, giving Juliette time to search for the falcon once more. They continued around the edge of the forest slowly. Juliette spotted the falcon a few more times, but it was only brief glimpses. Juliette huffed.

“_No one said it would be easy,_” Juliette murmured.

It had been surprisingly easy so far. Any trouble she had gotten into, she had gotten out of relatively easily. Granted that was mostly thanks to Arthur, but still. Juliette had not expected an outlaw to help her. She had not expected help from bounty hunters either, Juliette had been surprised they had hung around. Juliette had fully expected the two to vanish after she had helped them, but they did not. She enjoyed their company, even if Miguel could be trying at times.

“Señorita,” Miguel called happily.

Juliette looked over in surprise. He had a strange ability to appear whenever Juliette was thinking of him, it was if he felt his ears burning. Daniel was riding up behind him, his gaze hunting for something. Briefly Juliette wondered if he was looking for Arthur.

“Hello,” Juliette greeted.

She surveyed him in surprise. He looked far nicer than he typically did. His shirt was clean and stain free, his hair neatly tied back, only a few curly strands fell in his face. Miguel had always been handsome, but he had been equally as rugged. It was hard for Juliette to look past the grime he usually wore as a second skin.

“You clean up nice,” Juliette commented. “What is the occasion?”

“Daniel is mad at me,” Miguel explained.

“Really?” Juliette asked, looking to Daniel for confirmation.

Daniel grumbled out something and Miguel laughed.

“I made a small error in judgement-“

“Small error cost us fifty bucks,” Daniel reminded. 

“What happened?” Juliette asked. “A bounty?”

Miguel shrugged. He brought his horse to a halt near Juliette.

“Real nice one, too,” Daniel agreed. “This bastard had hidden himself away in this abandoned fort with a bunch of idiots. People have been lookin’ for him for ages and we finally found him, scouted out the place, and decided to get him the next day. This idiot went and got drunk and next thing we knew; entire fort had been shot up.”

Miguel chuckled anxiously.

“It happens-“

“It doesn’t have to,” Daniel said irritably.

Juliette shook her head.

“I suppose your plan is not working then?” Juliette asked Miguel.

“He is here,” Miguel said with a wink. “Would have ran off on me otherwise to go and pout.”

Daniel shot a glare at Miguel but didn’t say argue. Juliette smiled.

“What are you doing out here, Juliette?” Miguel asked. “Looking for your outlaw?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Juliette said. 

That would be on her agenda later, but for now she had other matters to attend to.

“I saw this bird earlier, I was hoping to see it land to get a picture,” Juliette explained.

Miguel and Daniel exchanged a look, one that was very similar to the one they’d shared when Juliette went to investigate the horse. Juliette chuckled; she knew how ridiculous it sounded.

“I thought it was worth some time investigating,” Juliette explained.

“Chasing after a bird?” Miguel asked.

“Better than losing fifty dollars,” Juliette reasoned.

Daniel laughed instantly and Miguel glowered.

“That was cold,” Miguel said.

“Ay, I quite enjoyed it,” Daniel said.

“Hmph,” Miguel huffed.

Juliette guided Fleur to keep forward, her gaze returning once more to the sky. It was in vain, she did not spot the falcon again. Still, she continued to look as they traced the edge of the forest.

“Morgan find you?” Daniel asked.

Juliette glanced back at him quizzically.

“We ran into him in Rhodes, and he mentioned lookin’ for you,” Daniel explained. “Pointed him in the right direction.”

“He did, thanks,” Juliette said with a slow smile.

“Good,” Daniel said. “I’d rather him be with you than shooting up another town.”

Juliette’s gaze dropped for a moment. She agreed with him, but she certainly did not like the reminder.

“You missed it, señorita,” Miguel said. He chuckled in amusement as he continued, “Your outlaw is the idiot brother to Williams.”

“Pardon?” Juliette asked. Agitation rose in her voice as she continued, “He is not-“

“Self-proclaimed,” Miguel interrupted before Juliette could defend him. “Well, almost. What were their names?”

“Williams was Melvin,” Daniel offered. “Morgan was Fenton.”

Juliette glanced back at them to see they were both smiling in amusement.

“What happened?” Juliette asked, her voice returning to normal.

“They were on some sort of mission,” Daniel explained. “Idiots decided to play dress up, as if half the fucking town don’t already know their names.”

“Rhodes is stupid,” Miguel reasoned. “No one noticed, they were all drunk off moonshine!”

“Raiders noticed,” Daniel argued. “Shot up the bar-“ Daniel’s gaze flickered back to Juliette and he rolled his eye, continuing, “don’t look so worried, Morgan was fine.”

“Were either of you shot?” Juliette asked.

They had both been shot in Valentine, Juliette certainly did not want a repeat of that occasion. Her gaze searched them both for any bandages peeking out, but she found none.

“Nah,” Daniel said. “Raiders can’t shoot for shit.”

Juliette nodded in relief, looking forward again. Fenton. Now he had three names, Morgan, Callahan, and Fenton. She was sure this was not Arthur’s choice; she would be surprised if he did not protest being someone’s idiot brother.

They continued around the forest slowly, Juliette’s gaze set above the tree line. Eventually she could tell Miguel was getting bored as he began to hum. She listened as he tapped against his saddle. He was not terrible when he was sober, his voice had a strange melody to it.

“What did you do in France?” Daniel asked, breaking the silence. “Chase after birds?”

“No,” Juliette said with an amused smile. “I did not have the luxury. I kept busy, as we all do. What about you, before bounty hunting?”

Silence. Juliette could imagine them both exchanging looks, neither wanting to share their past.

“Point taken,” Daniel finally said.

Juliette liked the strange agreement they had come to, none of them needed to divulge past grievances. With Arthur it felt different to share it, it felt natural, comfortable. Saying words, she had kept hidden was strangely freeing. Hearing them aloud, knowing they were true.

“Why not just take a photograph of us?” Miguel asked.

She looked back at him curiously.

“Is that an offer?” Juliette questioned.

Daniel glared at Miguel and Miguel chuckled.

“If we can stop chasing a bird you saw,” Miguel said. “It’s a deal.”

The bird was long gone, while both Miguel and Daniel were still around. Gladly, Juliette took them up on the offer. The forest offered a nice backdrop for it as well, with a distant outcropping of rocks to their left.

Juliette set up her camera, instructing Miguel and Daniel to both remain on their horses.

“Not sure how I got roped into his,” Daniel grumbled.

“It was your partner that suggested it, I only assumed you two came together,” Juliette said.

Miguel smiled brilliantly and nudged Daniel.

“We are partners!” Miguel declared.

Daniel kept quiet and didn’t protest, but looked irritated, nonetheless. It did not take horribly long for Juliette to get a picture she was satisfied with. She put away her camera and mounted Fleur once more, her gaze looking back over the forest.

“Hey, you promised,” Miguel said instantly.

“He’s right,” Daniel commented. “Put up with-“

“Standing still and looking angry?” Juliette questioned. “Marvelous job.”

Miguel snickered while Daniel huffed.

“That is his job,” Miguel said. “I am the handsome one and he is the scary one-“

Daniel glared ahead and Miguel’s smile softened some.

“Stop glaring, Danny,” Miguel said. “You are in pleasant company!”

Daniel rubbed at his eye, one of his fingers brushing over his eyepatch out of reflex. Juliette’s smile fell. It could not be easy adjusting to life again after losing something as valuable as an eye. Juliette knew it went double for him, someone that needed to rely on his aim to survive. It was good he had found Miguel to rely on. 

“Let us get a drink,” Miguel suggested.

Juliette shrugged; she had no plans. Certainly, she would not stay long, but she could use a drink. 

“Celebrate your idiot,” Miguel snickered.

Daniel cracked a smile, humor shining in his gaze. That was what it took to make him smile, taunting Arthur.

“Do not taunt him too much,” Juliette said. 

“Scared he’ll shoot us?” Miguel asked with a smirk. “Worried for us?”

“He won’t shoot us,” Daniel scoffed. “As much as he wants to.”

Juliette looked over at him curiously. She trusted Arthur not to, but she was surprised they both seemed unafraid of him. They had told her to be cautious around him for so long, why were they not cautious as well?

“Your outlaw will not shoot us,” Miguel said. “You’re our shield!”

“Shield?” Juliette repeated in disbelief.

“Being your friend has strange perks, Juliette,” Miguel chuckled.

It did make sense, she supposed. If Arthur did purposefully harm them, Juliette would not be forgiving. Malicious actions was not something Juliette would put up with. She understood _why _Valentine happened and she did not like it, but it had reason. Harming someone to see them bleed was very different. 

A sharp cawing sounded, and Juliette looked up to see the falcon flying overhead again. Juliette brought Fleur to a stop, her gaze tracking the bird. It was heading back towards the forest. What was over there?

“Not again,” Miguel groaned. “Drinks-!”

“Go on ahead, it is too early for me to drink,” Juliette said.

She guided Fleur back towards the forest and heard a sigh from Miguel.

“See you around, Juliette,” Daniel called after her. He continued with a chuckle to Miguel, “Don’t look so disappointed, I’m here still.”

“I am happy you are not abandoning me too!”

Miguel’s voice rose as he said ‘abandoning’, making sure Juliette heard it as she retreated. Juliette waved a hand back at them.

“I will catch up with you both later if you are still in the saloon,” Juliette said.

“Ayy, we will be,” Miguel said. “I am holding you to that!”

~*~

Juliette had wandered around the forest again, continuing past it. The falcon had disappeared just past it, it had to have a nest nearby or something. Why else did it keep returning?

“_What do you think, girl?_” Juliette asked gently.

She patted Fleur’s neck.

As the forest began to thin Juliette spotted a figure on a distant hill. The falcon swooped around a few times, before diving down. The figure moved to hold out an arm and the falcon landed on their arm. Juliette stared in amazement, instantly guiding Fleur towards them.

A falcon tamer.

Juliette had heard stories but had never imagined running into someone that practiced it. As Juliette got closer, she got a better look at the man. He was young, early twenties, his skin a terracotta in the setting sunlight. His hair was dark and short, he was clean shaven, but Juliette wondered if he even grew stubble. His clothes were clean, a dark jacket over a light shirt, and a bright red bandana. He had on a thick glove protecting his arm from the falcon’s sharp claws.

The falcon’s gaze fixed on Juliette as she got closer, its eyes a bright golden. It tilted its head, studying her.

“Hello, ma’am,” the man greeted cheerily.

“Hello,” Juliette returned.

Surprise flickered through his eyes, but Juliette hardly noticed. Her attention was solely on the falcon. It fluttered its wings, still watching Juliette.

“You are a falcon tamer?” Juliette questioned.

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed. “This here is Icarus.”

“He is marvelous,” Juliette said.

She dismounted Fleur as she got closer. Icarus watched Juliette like… well like a hawk.

“Does he mind strangers?” Juliette asked, hesitating.

“Not at all,” he said instantly. “My name’s Wyatt, by the way, Wyatt Jones.”

“A pleasure,” Juliette said. “Juliette Bellerose.”

“Pretty name, miss,” Wyatt said.

“Thank you,” Juliette said with an amused smile.

“W-would you like to pet him?” Wyatt offered, holding his arm out.

Icarus’s head raised as she got closer to Juliette. Icarus stared at Juliette, waiting for Juliette to move.

“Will he mind?” Juliette questioned.

“No, he likes it,” Wyatt reassured.

Juliette reached a handout slowly, waiting to see how Icarus reacted. Icarus watched her but did not move away. She gently brushed her knuckles against her feathers, they were smooth and silky under her touch.

“You’re a photographer?” Wyatt questioned. “Noticed the camera.”

Juliette looked back in surprise and nodded.

“Yes, yes I am,” Juliette said. “I would ask to take a photograph, but the light is fading…” Juliette considered this for a moment. She had found a falcon tamer but had found him too late. “Any chance you will be around tomorrow?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Wyatt said instantly. “Meeting up with some fellas around Saint Denis, but I got plenty of travelling time. We’re putting on a little show- if you’re in the area in a few months, you should check it out.”

Juliette nodded. She had no intention of going anywhere near Saint Denis if she could help it. Being recognized out here was a strange coincidence, but in Saint Denis she knew there would be people. The mayor of Saint Denis was French, when she had left, she had received a letter from him. They were looking for investors, desperate to build up their city.

“I will consider it,” Juliette said. “Are you staying in Rhodes?”

“For the time being,” Wyatt said.

Juliette scratched Icarus’s neck gently and he instantly curved his head to fit into Juliette’s hand. Juliette smiled.

“He quite likes you,” Wyatt chuckled. “He’s real good at hunting out here, that’s why we’re out here. Figured he deserved a nice treat.”

“You hunt with him?” Juliette asked.

Wyatt did not seem like a hunter. He was rather slim, tall, with thin arms.

“Yes, ma’am, he prefers it,” Wyatt explained. “Sometimes I have to buy him somethin’ from a butcher, but he much prefers hunting his on food.”

“I could ride with you back,” Juliette offered. “I have a meeting in Rhodes.”

Wyatt beamed at her.

“I’d appreciate the company,” Wyatt said. “Awfully quiet out here. Folks don’t seem to like strangers much in these parts, sayin’ hello gets you a real dirty look.”

“Yes,” Juliette agreed. “Around here I am afraid that is typical.”

Juliette did not like it this far south. She would not be in the area if not for Arthur. As much as Juliette did not want to say it, she wanted to remain close to him. Juliette looked forward to seeing him. Even now she wanted to meet with him again, and it had only been two days.

They set off after a few minutes, Icarus flying overhead, while Wyatt rode on a light brown horse.

“Do you usually let him fly when you are travelling?” Juliette questioned as she looked up to watch Icarus fly ahead.

“Not as often as I’d like,” Wyatt admitted. “I have a cage for him, but he likes to spread his wings. With all this travelling he’s had to be caged more.”

“Why are you travelling?” Juliette asked.

“Joined with a travelling group,” Wyatt explained. “Out near Valentine we put on some shows and made good money. Trying Saint Denis next. Don’t know how long that life is for us, but for now it is good.”

Juliette nodded.

“Icarus likes being watched,” Wyatt chuckled. “He’d be far off if it weren’t for you.”

“He is very impressive,” Juliette said.

“You ain’t from around here, are you?” Wyatt asked.

Juliette glanced back to him briefly.

“No,” Juliette said.

She knew it was not his fault, but she was painfully tired of this question. Yes, she had an accent, yes, she was not from around here, but how many people really needed to ask? Juliette was finding herself wishing that her accent had faded more. 

Icarus swooped down and Juliette stared in surprise. He flew around them, before landing on Wyatt’s outstretched arm. He released the reins for a moment to scratch Icarus’s neck. He tilted his head again.

As they continued on to Rhodes a few other travelers passed by. A few looked at Icarus, but most kept their heads down. A man passed by them; his gaze fixed straight ahead. Juliette hesitated a moment, her gaze flicking to him. He had a claw mark scar across his jaw, stubble growing around it. His gaze glanced to Juliette, his eyes harsh, and Juliette frowned.

Her posture tensed for a moment, waiting, but nothing happened. They passed by without any issue, neither moving for the other. Juliette supposed it was her task to move ahead of Wyatt to leave room, but for an indescribable reason Juliette felt the urge to remain firm.

Wyatt missed the exchange entirely, unaware.

She was beginning to wonder if this was a common trend for him, he seemed rather naïve. She could not see a gun with him, a rare sight.

“How long have you been travelling on your own?” Juliette questioned.

“Not too long,” Wyatt admitted. “I have a cabin north of Strawberry- have you been to Strawberry?”

“Regrettably, I have,” Juliette said.

“Don’t like it?” Wyatt asked in surprise. “Real pretty town, folk are nice enough, surprised you don’t like it.”

“The mayor is… interesting,” Juliette said.

He was playing a very dangerous game, luring out investors with lies. If he angered the wrong person, his career would be over. He would be unable to walk in public without whispers following him. A horrible fate that he seemed to think himself safe from.

“Haven’t spoken to him much,” Wyatt said. “Usually only talks to fancy folk. You might stand a chance having a conversation with him.”

He did not stand a chance having a conversation with her, but Juliette decided it was better to seem cordial.

“Perhaps,” Juliette said.

It did not take them long to reach Rhodes, but the sun had still drifted down to the horizon. Juliette was tired of riding, she did enjoy it, but after a full day she was ready to be on her own feet again. Wyatt stopped outside of the hotel, with Icarus circling overhead.

“Where do you keep him?” Juliette questioned. “Does he fly at night?”

“No,” Wyatt said. “I got a cage for him, a bigger one back at our cabin. He’s been with me since he was a fledgling, found her on him all on him own.”

Juliette nodded. That made sense, she knew most birds were not nocturnal. Juliette was unsure where Icarus would go if he was out at night, there was not a nest for him to retire to.

They said their goodbyes and made plans to meet the next morning in Rhodes. Pleased, Juliette returned to the saloon. She had dismounted Fleur outside of the hotel and led her to the saloon. She hitched her out front and patted her gently. Fleur leaned her head down and took a drink from the trough out front.

“Who was your friend?”

Juliette looked up at Miguel’s voice to see him leaning against the saloon’s railing. Daniel was beside him.

“Who?” Juliette asked with a slight frown.

She glanced around. Wyatt stood outside of the hotel still and waved as he noticed her attention. She waved back before turning back to Miguel and Daniel.

“Him, Juliette, him!” Miguel exclaimed. “Where have you been hiding him?”

Juliette looked back to see Wyatt at his horse, Icarus no longer in sight. Without Icarus, he was a lot less interesting to Juliette.

“I met him today, after following the falcon,” Juliette explained. “He is a falcon tamer.”

Miguel did not seem impressed by this additional information, but Juliette realized with a start they were still watching him. Juliette frowned and looked back, uncertain to what she was not seeing.

“He is easy on the eyes,” Miguel said. “Invite him to drink with us! I cannot have him taken from me so soon-“

Juliette looked to Daniel for help, but he merely shrugged in agreement.

“He ain’t wrong,” Daniel said. “Wouldn’t mind him hanging around.”

“I am getting a drink,” Juliette decided.

She walked into the saloon, ignoring the two of them as she went inside. She ordered a drink, and after a moment Miguel and Daniel joined her at a table.

“Why don’t you like him?” Miguel demanded the moment he sat down.

“I like him just fine,” Juliette protested. “I met him today, he seems like an alright person.”

“Alright?” Miguel scoffed. 

Juliette was used to Daniel being the voice of reason, but he nodded in agreement with Miguel. Juliette did not like being outnumbered.

“I am not in the habit of-“ Juliette began.

“Appreciating fine men?” Miguel taunted.

Juliette sighed in frustration.

“Not every stranger is someone I want to keep around,” Juliette reasoned. “I do not know him.”

“How much is there to know?” Miguel asked. “He is handsome!”

“Seems nice,” Daniel agreed. “Better ‘n an outlaw.”

“I am not taking advice on this from two bounty hunters,” Juliette said.

“We’re doin’ better ‘n you,” Miguel chuckled.

Juliette shot a look at him and Miguel laughed.

“Hear me out, Juliette! What is wrong with him? He will not get you shot at it! And if he is with you, we will see him more!”

“He’s…” Juliette trailed off, trying to find the right word. Wyatt seemed fine, he was nice, but even if it were not for Arthur she would be uninterested. Wyatt was… “Young.”

And of course, Arthur. Juliette could not describe what drew her to Arthur, but it was undeniable. He was someone she thought of constantly, someone she wished was around more. Even then, Juliette fond herself longing for his company. He would speak reason, he would be on her side with this.

“How old are you?” Miguel asked.

Juliette frowned at him and Daniel chuckled.

“What he means is, he can’t all that much younger than you,” Daniel said. “Looks no younger ‘n twenty three.”

“That is not what I meant,” Juliette said. “He is… unaware. Naïve.”

Juliette knew it was an unfair judgement, but to her naivety was dangerous. He looked like someone that was too trusting, too honest, too… normal.

Daniel and Miguel exchanged a look.

“I do not have to explain how it is… dangerous to you,” Juliette said. “You are both bounty hunters.”

Daniel nodded in agreement. Befriending any of them could result in being shot. Juliette knew Daniel and Miguel could both handle it, they had before, but Wyatt? He didn’t need to be in the middle of anything. He was a nice man, she wished him the best, but befriending was not a real option.

“Don’t plan on ever settling down then?” Daniel asked. “Can’t run forever, right?”

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted with a sigh.

She took a long drink.

“I have matters to attend to… eventually,” Juliette murmured.

“What’d you end up doing about your outlaw?” Miguel questioned.

His voice had shifted, it was serious. Too serious.

“Nothing,” Juliette said.

What happened in Valentine was horrible, but… he did regret it… and it was not malicious.

Miguel frowned down at his drink and Juliette felt her heart fall. She knew how they saw Arthur, she understood why. But… it was not easy to simply walk away. She was drawn to him, unexplainably so. There was something about how he looked at her, how he smiled, that made her heart warm.

“We discussed it, but…” Juliette trailed off.

“Gonna let him get away with it then?” Daniel asked.

Juliette let her gaze flicker away from him. She stared out the window for a moment, before finally answering, “What else can I do?”

“Help us wrangle him,” Miguel suggested with a slight smirk.

He was only half joking.

“And then you would be in the middle of a gang war,” Juliette reminded.

“Might be worth it,” Miguel said. “Or maybe not. He’s your outlaw, your choice.” 

Juliette still found herself surprised by this. She knew this had been their stance since Valentine, it was her choice, but it felt too forgiving. Surely, they had to be more mad? Frustrated she acted so foolishly. Yet she saw none of that in their eyes, truly it seemed it was up to her discretion. This was her choice, hers alone.

She was not used to this still. Juliette was used to the idea of choice being an illusion, that it was her choice as long as she made the right one. If she didn’t, it would be made for her.

Juliette remained with them at the saloon until it was dark out, before deciding it was time to retire. They parted ways, leaving Juliette and Fleur to find a camp for the night. They did not go too far from Rhodes, leaving just enough distance that travelers would not easily wander upon them.

Often Juliette did not rest easy, and that night was no exception. Every branch breaking would wake her, her heart racing. Too often it was nothing, just her own nerves waking her again. This was not a side effect of America, she had similar problems in France.

A few times throughout the night Juliette checked to see if it was light enough to leave, but it was not. She considered staying by the firelight but knew that would only keep her awake longer. She needed to find a way to move past this, but Juliette had no solutions.

When the sun finally did rise, she was incredibly grateful. For a moment it felt like it never would, that they were trapped in an eternal night. But the sun rose as it did day by day. It was funny how easily she doubted it, how her own anxiety could make her question time passing. It was not a good sign, but Juliette elected to ignore it.

She readied herself for the day quickly and deconstructed the camp. It did not take her horribly long to set off, she had gotten faster at packing over the months. Juliette felt unease still crawling through her. There was no reason for it, it was irrational, but it stayed with her. Worry followed as she rode. A strange thought flickered through her. _Was Arthur alright? _

“_It has not been that long,_” Juliette reasoned to Fleur. There was no reason to be worried for him. “_Only a few days…_” But it did not take long for an outlaw to find trouble.

Juliette tried to convince herself it was nothing, but the thought lingered, nagged at her.

As they reached Rhodes, Juliette looked across the street for him. He was not around, but she had assumed as much. Arthur was not easy to find, it seemed to always happen when she least expected it.

Juliette stopped briefly in the post office, collecting her mail, before starting down the street again. She caught her reflection as they moved and looked away quickly, fixing her gaze firmly ahead. She walked with her eyes on their destination. 

There had been a time when Juliette had not recoiled at her own reflection. She had never been the type to stop and stare but seeing her reflection did not fill her with the same anger as it did now. Juliette could remember the moment this changed, she could remember it so vividly, feel the unadulterated anger prick at her skin. It had been a few years, but the feeling was fresh each time. She had been furious with herself, she had been a fool. Camille had died for it, and she knew she had aided in countless other deaths. She had been a harbinger of destruction… the professor was correct to try and ward her away.

People had feared her, watched closely, worried what she would do. She could see the resentment in her eyes, feel their steely gaze. Was that why people cowered before her? Juliette often wondered what kept her a woman, what could change her into a monster? For some people, Juliette was sure she had crossed the line. Was there a way back?

She was not hideous, but her mistakes scared her. She always looked tired now, her smile felt fake, her skin taut, her hair limp.

Arthur did not see it, she knew he did not. He thought she was pretty still. He could feel it in his gaze, hear it in his voice he was genuine, but… Juliette was waiting for the day that wound change. He was a smart man, as much as liked to say he wasn’t. He would understand. She wondered if the look in his eyes would shift… of course, it would. It was only a matter of time.

Arthur had often warned her she should not hang around him, he was a bad man, but Juliette was not a good person by any means either. Perhaps they deserved each other. He might get her killed, but… that was an end Juliette was content with. Her only worry was who else would die.

“G’morning, ma’am-“

Juliette looked up in surprise to see Wyatt waiting.

“Good morning,” Juliette greeted, forcing a smile.

He did not notice it was forced, but instead returned it whole heartedly.

They left quickly, neither in a rush to stay. Juliette was sure Wyatt had experienced the worst of Rhodes already, how was he still so happy? Juliette could not understand it. He was someone that seemed so young and full life, his eyes bright, his smile so incredibly genuine. Juliette had been like that once, she knew she had been, but it was hard to remember it. Juliette wondered if she ever smiled that genuinely, felt that happy… there had been moments with Arthur, he always managed to make her smile.

As they rode, Wyatt told Juliette more about Icarus. She listened, but her mind wandered. She was good at multi-tasking, all to used to pretending to be paying attention. Countless people in France demanded her focus, her attention, and Juliette would give them half. Just enough to take in what they were saying.

Few others passed them that morning, but it was early. 

“Do you always wake up early?” Juliette questioned.

“Yes, ma’am,” Wyatt agreed. “As early as the birds.”

Juliette chuckled. Yes, that made sense.

“Weren’t expecting you ‘round for a while,” Wyatt admitted. “Guess you’re an early riser too.”

“Yes,” Juliette agreed.

There had always been too much to do and so little time in the day, every minute counted. Now that was not the case, but she still felt it. There were moments Juliette would worry that she was wasting her time, she had to hurry, but to what? There was nothing to rush to now, no appointments, no deadlines, no parties, she had control over her time.

A strange thought and an even stranger feeling. She had control.

They returned to the same spot they had been the other day; Juliette quite liked the background it provided. While she set up her camera, Wyatt practiced with Icarus.

The sun was still rising distantly, if Juliette could time it right the lighting could be admirable. Once she finished setting up, Wyatt had Icarus fly around. Juliette tried a few pictures of her moving, but doubted they would turn out clear.

“Pretend I am not here,” Juliette reminded Wyatt. “Don’t look at the camera.”

“Alright,” Wyatt agreed. “I’ll do my best. Ain’t used to being photographed.”

“That is quite alright,” Juliette reassured.

Icarus seemed to like the attention, somehow, he seemed to understand what the camera was.

Juliette heard a horse approaching and looked back to see Arthur and Whiskey. Instantly she smiled. Her gaze searched him for any sign of energy, but he looked perfect. She relaxed some, the tension in her shoulders finally leaving.

Wyatt glanced over at Arthur curiously, unafraid.

“Howdy, folks,” Arthur greeted.

Juliette’s smile grew. There was no reason the word _howdy _should amuse her so much, but it certainly did. It did not feel like an English word, but there were many English words that sounded strange to her. _Howdy. _

Arthur seemed to notice and chuckled.

“Good morning, Arthur,” Juliette said.

He wandered closer and dismounted Whiskey by Fleur. He walked over, his gaze moving to Wyatt. Juliette watched as he sized Wyatt up. He stopped by Juliette’s side; his eyes slightly narrowed. Wyatt walked over, seemingly unbothered by Arthur’s look.

“Hello,” Wyatt said with a smile. “Wyatt Jones.”

He offered his hand and Arthur stared at it for a moment, before accepting it.

“Arthur Morgan,” Arthur said with a slight frown. “What exactly y’all doin’ out here?”

To answer his question, Icarus swooped down, and Wyatt held his arm for him. He landed easily, his eyes fixed on Arthur. Arthur started, his hand moving down. Juliette caught it before it could reach his pistol. She gave him a look and for a moment he seemed embarrassed.

“Miss Bellerose was taking some photographs of Icarus and me,” Wyatt explained.

“Icarus?” Arthur repeated.

“Oh, my falcon,” Wyatt said. “His name’s from-“

“I know,” Arthur said shortly.

Wyatt seemed to finally notice Arthur’s strange contempt for him. Juliette nudged Arthur with her elbow, but he remained firm.

“Marvelous, is he not?” Juliette said. “A handsome falcon, certainly.”

Arthur seemed to relax and shrugged.

“Yes,” Wyatt said eagerly. “Icarus is very handsome, smart too. You look like a hunter sir, Icarus here hunts with me.”

“Need a bird to hunt?” Arthur asked dryly.

His gaze flickered around the meadow, making it clear he wasn’t truly interested in the answer.

“Well it isn’t that simple,” Wyatt said with a good natured chuckle. “You see, it is quite a process. I understand it might seem strange to someone to has never hunted with a companion, but I assure you it is an art. I implore you to watch.” 

Wyatt started away and Arthur grumbled under his breath, “an art alright.”

Juliette gave him a pointed look, but he did not seem to notice. Juliette rolled her eyes and moved to her camera.

“Monsieur Jones, could you move to your right?” Juliette asked.

The sun was beginning to peek through the forest, undoubtedly from where he was standing it would make the photographs blown out.

“Course, ma’am,” Wyatt agreed. “Please, call me Wyatt.”

Arthur’s frown deepened at that, but neither Juliette nor Wyatt noticed. Wyatt tossed a small bag in the air and Icarus flew after it, catching it, before retreating back. He dropped it and Wyatt caught it with a satisfied smile.

“Where are you from, sir?” Wyatt questioned.

“West.”

He waited for Arthur to clarify, but he didn’t. Instead, Arthur stared him down.

“R-right,” Wyatt said with a nervous chuckle. “And you miss?”

“France,” Juliette answered.

Her answer was equally as vague, if not more, but he seemed far more satisfied with her answer.

Arthur moved closer towards her as Wyatt continued to practice with Icarus.

“Impressive, is he not?” Juliette asked as she stood up to watch. 

“Hmph.” 

Juliette glanced over at Arthur, her smile falling to an uncertain frown as she studied him. He noticed her gaze and looked over at her for a moment, before his gaze slid away. He crossed his arms.

“Insufferable is the word I’d use,” Arthur grumbled under his breath.

Juliette stared at Arthur in surprise. She had not ever heard him use a disgruntled tone, not even with Miguel. She had seen Arthur irritated, certainly, but this was different. Truthfully, Wyatt had not done much. He was very proud of his own prowess, enjoyed others marveling in it too much, but Juliette was more than willing to ignore this. It was impressive, Arthur had to know that. There was something else.

“Is he?” Juliette asked curiously, her smile slowly returning. “I thought he was delightful.”

Juliette watched him closely, taking in his reaction. Arthur looked back at Wyatt; his eyes narrowed. Wyatt seemed to feel his gaze as he turned to them for a moment. He smiled brilliantly at them.

“Mighty fine, isn’t he?” Wyatt asked as Icarus swooped and caught the bag once more.

“He is,” Juliette agreed.

Juliette watched as Icarus flew up, his wings beating powerfully as he circled over Wyatt’s head. Icarus dived down and dropped the bag, before flying around Wyatt. He landed on Wyatt’s outstretched arm, his claws sinking deep into the leather protecting Wyatt.

“Just a bird,” Arthur huffed. “Not all that, he ain’t tamin’ no lion.”

“I suppose not,” Juliette agreed. “But birds are not easily trained.”

“Ain’t ever tried,” Arthur said. “Don’t see no point, seems mighty useless.”

“A lot of things are useless, Arthur,” Juliette said. “Most forms of art could be declared useless with the same train of thought, could it not?”

Arthur didn’t answer her, but instead glared at Wyatt as he commanded Icarus. Icarus flew around elegantly, following each instruction perfectly. Icarus liked having an audience as much as Wyatt did. He would do well in Saint Denis, people there were easily impressed by animals. 

“You really do not like him, do you?” Juliette asked.

He didn’t look back at her, but kept his gaze fixed on Wyatt. Juliette did not understand why he was fixated on glaring at Wyatt, he had done nothing so far. Wyatt seemed completely unaware of Arthur’s contempt for him, not for Arthur’s lack of trying.

“Arthur,” Juliette said.

Still, he did not look at her.

“You are my favorite; you do realize that?” Juliette asked.

Arthur either was unconvinced or simply did not hear her as he did not react. Juliette sighed and turned towards him. She set a hand on his cheek gently, his stubble scratching at her hand as she guided his gaze back to her. His expression warmed, his eyes growing gentle. Juliette leaned up and he moved down to meet her. Her eyes slid closed as she kissed him gently. His lips were rough and cracked but softened under hers. She felt his arms around her, holding her close.

His warmth wrapped around her, causing her to forget about the cold frigid air for a moment. Never before had she felt this incredibly safe.

“I don’t know how much more you need,” Wyatt began, his words grounding her back in reality. Arthur took his hat off of his head and used it to block them from Wyatt. “Light’s begin’ ta fade- oh, sorry folks-“

Juliette smiled and leaned back. Arthur stared at her longingly but let her go as she shifted back.

“We are almost done,” Juliette reassured.

He was right, unfortunately the sun’s light was no longer reaching the meadow as well. They could easily find another location, but suddenly Juliette was not as invested. Wyatt nodded and smiled.

Juliette did not waste a moment of the fading light, uncertain how the photographs would turn out. Wyatt continued to pursue conversation with Arthur, and Arthur proved to be more agreeable. He still did not like Wyatt, but his tone was not as harsh as it had been.

Once the meadow was cast in a shadow of the forest, Juliette decided she had plenty. 

“Thank you, monsieur,” Juliette said as Wyatt retreated back towards them. “Will you be heading towards Saint Denis next?”

“Yep,” Wyatt confirmed. “Eager to get away from Rhodes.”

“Can understand that,” Arthur said.

Arthur whistled and their horses approached. Fleur smiled slightly, strangely pleased that Fleur responded to him. He helped her pack away the camera, and Juliette found herself impressed he knew exactly where she kept it. How many times had he seen her put it away? 

“You both travel together?” Wyatt asked.

Juliette and Arthur exchanged a quick look. Now that was a question neither of them really had an answer for. Lying was the only clear option, and Juliette felt guilty about it. Wyatt was kind, he did not deserve to be lied to.

“Yes,” Juliette answered. “When we can.”

That was not _really _a lie, they did roam together when they could. Wyatt nodded, happy with her answer. He smiled at them.

“Nice folk,” Wyatt said. “Nice to meet some friendly people for once.”

Again, Juliette and Arthur exchanged a look. Friendly. That did not sound like the right word to describe either of them, but Juliette did not want to ruin the illusion for Wyatt.

“Ran into your friends last night,” Wyatt continued. “Bounty hunters, right?”

“Yes,” Juliette agreed. “You did?”

“They were in the saloon,” Wyatt explained. “Couldn’t sleep last night, decided I could use a drink.”

“Real nice,” Wyatt said.

Juliette nodded in agreement. They were nice, nicer than anyone could expect form a pair of bounty hunters. Arthur frowned slightly at this information but didn’t say anything.

“Well… reckon I’ll see y’all around,” Wyatt said. “If you’re in Saint Denis, I’ll get you both a ticket.”

“Thank you,” Juliette said

They separated after a moment, heading in different directions. Juliette and Arthur wandered along the road, neither taking lead on which direction they should head. Instead they ended up just following it as the path twisted and turned through the forest.

“I heard you had a rough day earlier this week,” Juliette said. “You made Miguel and Daniel very happy.”

“Y’know me,” Arthur grumbled. “Always lookin’ to please them.”

Juliette chuckled.

“I appreciate you being patient with them,” Juliette said.

Arthur’s gaze softened and he looked back to her.

“They ain’t too bad,” Arthur said.

“Really?” Juliette asked. “Better than Wyatt?”

Arthur smiled slightly and shrugged.

“Reckon so,” Arthur said. “Sorry ‘bout…”

Arthur trailed off and Juliette shook her head.

“Do not worry about it, Fenton,” Juliette said, her eyes shimmering in amusement. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve had a terrible time since you turned… idiot? Was that the term?”

“Reckon it was,” Arthur agreed.

“Are you often playing the idiot?” Juliette questioned. “It does not suit you.”

“More ‘n more.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i won't lie.. this chapter is a little stupid, but like a fun stupid. i just like the idea of arthur being irrationally jealous of wyatt who is a very nice guy (in arthur's eyes a lot nicer than him bc very obviously not an outlaw/someone that will get juliette shot at) and yknow i can write jealous arthur as a treat  
honestly falcon tamers are so cool?? i don't remember exactly how this idea happened, i think i was drawing a falcon and thought jules would like this and here we are c":  
this was one of those chapters that i thought about a longtime before we were here, i had like a lot of scattered notes on it so if it seems disconnected that's why! there was one scene i took almost directly from the notes on my phone ^^" it also had a really ridiculous word doc name for a long time as most of these end up having... if you guys are curious i might take a screenshot of my folder for this with all the stupid doc names, i got to look at them all the other day and i forgot how stupid some of them are  
i hope you guys liked it!


	18. A Day of Misfortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small note! I wanted to add a mild gore warning? It's described, not like intensely, but it's there. It isn't worse than anything in game, but I just figured I'd let you guys know beforehand.  
but on a happier note! If you haven't seen it Viria made me a wonderful commission of arthur n jules and i love it!  
[ Here's the instagram link! Give it a like if you can c: ](https://www.instagram.com/p/B94leCGn33q/)

When Arthur was younger, he never stopped moving. They’d finish a job and Arthur would be sniffing around for another. He still wasn’t sure what compelled him to look for more trouble. Dutch encouraged it, but Hosea always told him to slow down. Stop and look around for a moment, there was always something better than the first thing he saw. He meant jobs and opportunities, but Arthur looked back at that advice differently now. They all needed to slow down, before they burned the world to the ground.

He enjoyed spending afternoons with Juliette, simply wandering. Not much was accomplished, but that didn’t much to him anymore. Juliette seemed satisfied, content with the work she had done. Arthur hadn’t liked the falconer, but… Juliette had been enamored by the falcon itself. He couldn’t help but smile as she watched it.

“I thought you only photographed predators,” Arthur commented.

They had wandered through Rhodes, moving quickly through it, and were heading further East. They had picked a road and stuck to it, following as it winded. They’d pass near the camp eventually, and Arthur only hoped no one would notice them. Juliette was not something he was willing to talk about.

“I never said that,” Juliette protested. “And a falcon is a predator, Arthur.”

“It’s a different kind than a wolf,” Arthur chuckled. “Not lookin’ to get killed no more?”

Juliette smiled slightly in amusement, “Not particularly. On paper a falcon and a wolf are the same, as far as predators go.”

“How’s that?” Arthur asked.

“They both kill,” Juliette reasoned.

That was true, but Arthur wasn’t scared of no bird. 

“One could kill us,” Arthur argued.

“A bird could kill you,” Juliette chuckled.

“Not likely,” Arthur scoffed. “Ain’t ever been so much as harmed by a bird.”

“Birds can carry disease,” Juliette reasoned. “No, they will not make you bleed or maim you… but some may consider their death more painful.”

“Hmph,” Arthur huffed. “Ain’t really their fault, disease spreads by man too, I reckon. Wouldn’t blame a feller for coughin’ on you.”

“For tuberculosis, maybe,” Juliette said. “There are precautions to be taken with every disease, but people naïve and foolish.”

He wondered if that was what Mr. Downes had, tuberculosis. Seemed an awful way to die, bastard had practically coughed his lungs out. For the first time, Arthur found himself curious what happened to his wife and kid. Arthur had taken plenty of their valuables, enough to cover the debt he owed. He wasn’t sure why they even loaned money to him! He was poor, it was like stealin’ coins from a beggar.

“I reckon so,” Arthur finally agreed.

He didn’t know much about diseases; he wasn’t about to argue with her on this. He reckoned arguing with her in general wasn’t smart on his part, she was educated. Yet when they did debate, he didn’t feel like they were on unequal footing. He couldn’t figure that, he always felt like he was fighting an uphill battle when he argued with most folks.

Arthur rummaged through his saddlebag at a thought and tugged free the book the doctor had given him. He held it out towards Juliette, and she accepted it curiously. He watched as her gaze flickered across the title, then to the author, before she finally opened it. She scanned the table of contents with a slow smile.

“’Morbid anatomy’,” Juliette read in amusement.

“Hm?”

“Diseases,” Juliette explained. “There is a chapter on it.”

“I want you to have that,” Arthur said. “I reckon half of it is useless, but… if you get shot ‘n I’m not around, it’s got somethin’ on it.”

“Thank you,” Juliette said with a gentle smile. “Where did you find this? I cannot imagine a bookstore in Rhodes selling this.”

“Nah,” Arthur said. “Some doctor got his wagon stolen, requisitioned they said. He gave me that after I got it back.”

Juliette’s smile grew.

“What?” Arthur asked uncertainly.

“It is nice to hear you helping people,” Juliette said. “I know you are a good man.”

“Don’t know about that, Jules,” Arthur muttered.

He looked away, instead letting his gaze travel across the fields to their left. Farmers toiled over crops, the sun leering overhead. He was awfully glad he’d never had to do that, tending to cattle and crops seemed terrible work to him. All that work for dimes. But… it was _honest _work. More than what he did.

“Blood washes off,” Juliette said as she slid the book into her saddlebag.

He didn’t know what she saw in him, didn’t understand why she bothered keeping around. He’d gotten her shot at. Turned out he was the most dangerous predator she had encountered, only one to get her injured… well besides those bounty hunters. They’d gotten her shot same as him. God those bounty hunters. He could still hear their damned laughter. Bastards, the both of them.

“Why do you like them?” Arthur asked.

“Them?” Juliette repeated.

“Those bounty hunters,” Arthur explained.

Juliette considered this for a moment and Arthur looked back at her. He could practically see her thoughts forming in her green eyes. He smiled softly.

“Well… they can intolerable at times,” Juliette admitted. “But… they are loyal and honest.”

That much was true. They hadn’t ever lied to him, even when they probably should’ve. They could’ve tricked them both, used Juliette to get him. They didn’t… or at least hadn’t_ yet_. Strangely they weren’t scared of him anymore, they were well aware of the impact Juliette had on him.

“I reckon so,” Arthur muttered.

He trusted them more than he trusted some of the people in their own camp. They had plenty of good folk in the gang, but he was certain there were a few that would betray them first chance they got. He hadn’t voiced his worries much to Dutch, wasn’t a point to it. Dutch knew exactly how he felt, Arthur made it clear who he didn’t like in camp. He wasn’t an actor.

He looked back over at Juliette and he smiled slightly. She didn’t notice his gaze, but instead was studying the road ahead, searching for the next great adventure. Arthur didn’t know how he got so lucky. She should’ve turned him away the moment she first saw him, or at least after Valentine. Yet… somehow here they were. Weeks later and she did not hate him.

He’d made promises to her he couldn’t keep, he knew he had, but he wanted to keep them. Desperately. He wanted to promise he’d be better, he’d change, but with the path the gang was taking… he wasn’t sure how possible that was anymore. Seemed like everything would end in fire.

He started to look away, but realized something strange. His gaze settled again, staring at the chain that peeked out behind the collar of her shirt. Bronze and old. That wasn’t right. The chain he remembered shimmered brightly, catching sunlight and firelight easily.

“What happened to your necklace?” Arthur asked.

“Hm?”

Juliette looked at him first, before seeming to take in what he said. She glanced down, tugging her necklace free. The pendant certainly was different, looked no bigger than a dime, just as old and bronze as its chain. Not worth anything, really.

Juliette smiled at it and shrugged.

“I traded it,” she explained.

“For that?” Arthur asked in disbelief. “Jules-“

“I knew what I was doing, Arthur,” Juliette reassured with a soft chuckle. “I met this girl, she was nineteen I believe, and she was trying to pawn it off at a store. She told me she was a bounty hunter as well.”

“Bounty hunter, huh?” Arthur repeated. “Not an easy profession for a kid.”

“Not at all,” Juliette agreed.

Lenny was only nineteen and he made it out alright, but they always had someone older keep an eye on him. Boy was smart, but not the best marksman. Arthur preferred it someone went with him when he could, Dutch and Hosea seemed to agree plenty.

“How d’you always end up befriending bounty hunters?” Arthur asked with a soft chuckle. “Feel like all your friends ain’t exactly proper.”

“Most of them are not,” Juliette agreed.

As they continued down the path, Arthur’s gaze settled on distant travelers. They all diverted down different paths, leaving Arthur and Juliette alone. Being this close to camp made Arthur worry about running into one of the gang members. There were some he wouldn’t mind her meeting, namely Charles or Abigail, but there were plenty Arthur didn’t want her to run into. Micah and Bill were the first to come to mind, but… Dutch was probably high on that list as well. He had a strange feeling Juliette wouldn’t like Dutch and Dutch… well he liked to think he was the smartest person in a room. Having some disprove him of that made him get unreasonable.

“Now that you know,” Juliette began, dragging Arthur from his thoughts. He looked over to her curiously to see her wearing a coy smile. “Will you leave me?”

“Leave ya?” Arthur repeated. “Think you should be the one leavin’, Jules.”

“Well now that I have traded away that necklace, are you going to stay?” Juliette asked, her voice teasing.

Arthur chuckled.

“Reckon I might as well,” Arthur said. 

When Arthur had first met her, he really didn’t think she’d noticed him looking at her necklace. He wasn’t sure he’d ever live that down, not that he minded much. He’d never planned to rob her, but it was second nature to him to evaluate how much he would get if he did. He wasn’t particularly proud of it, but growing up as he did, he’d acquired plenty of bad habits. Most people didn’t notice him sizing them up.

Juliette did the same as him, but at times she’d done it blatantly, wanting people to know she was evaluating them. Some had frozen under her gaze, others barely noticed. It was a subtle threat, one Arthur understood all too well.

He was starting to learn how alike they were in some respects. There were plenty of glaring differences, but… _A long way from my own sins_. That was what she had said then, felt like just yesterday, but it’d been weeks. He didn’t rightfully need to know whatever had happened; he could almost guarantee he’d done worse.

Arthur’s gaze flickered back to Juliette, but her own was fixed on something. Her eyes were narrowed, studying something. Before he could look, she spoke.

“What is that?” Juliette asked, her voice sharp and uneasy.

Arthur’s hand instantly went to his pistol, his gaze snapping to follow hers. He scanned the forest she was studying but saw no one.

Juliette brought Fleur to a halt and Arthur followed. They were past the camp a considerable distance now, but it was still possible to run into someone. A path led into the forest, thin and winding. The trees were grouped close together, casting the path into a shadow. Plants tumbled out, ferns with wide leaves, twisting vines, and small white flowers poked out between large leaves.

He spotted it then, something that had caked blood across it. He could see gray skin peeking through the old blood. It was human, but he couldn’t tell what part of a human.

Juliette diverted Fleur to follow the new path, her gaze fixated ahead.

“Could be a huntin’ accident,” Arthur said.

“Hopefully,” Juliette agreed.

She dismounted Fleur near the part, pulling her own pistol free. Arthur followed her lead, his gaze searching the area around them once more.

“Look,” Juliette said. “The bone is cut cleanly, not an animal.”

He looked down and could see what she meant. The body part was chewed up by animals, but the bone was cut clean.

“Maybe you should… wait here,” Arthur suggested.

“The killer is long gone,” Juliette said. “This person has been dead for a while.”

“That ain’t exactly what I’m worried about,” Arthur said.

“What are you worried about then?” Juliette asked as she began down the path.

Arthur tried to find the proper way of voicing it, but came up short. He wasn’t sure what they were about to see or walk into, if it was something that… she’d rather not see. He supposed it wasn’t his place to tell her what she wanted to see or not, but he certainly didn’t want her to regret it.

“Just… might be ugly,” Arthur finally said.

“I am aware,” Juliette dismissed.

She looked back to him after a moment and offered him a small smile.

“I appreciate it, Arthur,” Juliette said. “But I am sure whatever it is… I have seen worse.”

Arthur nodded, still uncertain.

“We may be heading to a dead end without a body,” Juliette continued. “This could be-“ she stopped suddenly and Arthur frowned.

He looked around, following her gaze. A large pool of blood splattered the ground where the path split. Another disfigured body part laid there; Arthur reckoned it was a foot.

“It is like the killer is guiding us,” Juliette murmured.

“Why would he do that?” Arthur asked.

They continued down the path, following the marker.

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. “Unless… they wanted us to know.”

Arthur grimaced at the thought. Only someone sick would do something like this. Red peeked through the leaves up ahead, and Arthur braced himself.

“You sure about this?” Arthur asked.

Juliette did not answer, and Arthur moved to walk beside her. Juliette did not react at first, but after a moment he felt her hand slide against his. He held her hand, all too aware how soft it felt against his skin.

They both stopped as they turned, finally able to see the killer’s work. Her hand tightened on his, but Juliette did not say anything.

On a large twisting tree with wide branches, a torso hung. Its arms were strung out between the branches, the head was missing, as was the bottom half. Blood coated the ground around the tree, body parts laid out a path around the trunk. The word _Behold _was scratched into a branch.

The tree itself was situated above the path, anyone that travelled it would see it clearly. Once you rounded the corner, the torso was what you saw instantly. No avoiding it. She was right, the killer wanted someone to find it. To know.

“That is disturbing,” Juliette said.

He was surprised by her voice, it remained strong and sturdy. He wouldn’t have blamed her voice had been faint. This wasn’t… exactly a pleasant sight. He’d only seen disemboweled bodies caused by animals, not by a person.

“Yup,” Arthur said.

He glared up at it.

“Ever seen something like this?” Juliette asked.

“Nah,” Arthur said. “Ain’t ever seen someone string up a person they killed.”

Juliette moved towards the scene, her hand sliding away from his. Arthur started up the hill and offered her help once he reached the top. She accepted it, while holding her skirt so the edge wouldn't fall through the mud. 

“They seem awfully proud of their work,” Juliette said in disgust. “It is like they are taunting us.”

As they got closer, the smell of decaying flesh hit them. It was strong, worse than rotten meat. He could feel his stomach turn.

“They spent time here,” Juliette said. “How long would carving this even take?”

She studied the groove in the word, letting her finger run against it. It was deep into the branch; it had taken plenty of time to do.

Juliette moved to continue, and Arthur hurried to walk ahead. Arthur led the way around the path, in case the killer was around he wanted to encounter them first. They weren’t around, but instead at the end of the bloody path was a head on a stake, a piece of paper rolled up and shoved in the man’s mouth. His eyes were missing, all that was left were dark empty holes. 

“Jesus,” Arthur breathed.

He stopped for a moment, but Juliette continued. She hesitated a moment at the head and he could see her stiffen. Arthur approached her and stopped beside her. He didn’t recognize the man, but he was pretty sure he couldn’t even if he’d known him. The eyes were gouged out, creating two large gaping holes. Blood ran down his cheeks, his skin a pale gray. Animals hadn’t gotten to the head; this was all the killers work.

Juliette reached forward, but her hand stopped short of the paper as she stared the head down.

“I’ll do it,” Arthur said. 

Juliette nodded and retracted her hand wordlessly.

“I don’t know what he did to deserve this,” Arthur muttered.

He took hold of the paper and tugged it free. He could hear the paper shifting in the man’s mouth, scraping against his teeth. A chill travelled across Arthur’s skin. He shook the paper, but it was mostly dry already. Must’ve been out here a long time.

He unfurled it slowly, holding it so they could both examine it. It looked like a picture of some sort, but it was only a small section. Uneasily Arthur turned it over. There were only a couple letters written in blood on the back, ‘d me’.

“This is only a part of the message,” Juliette said quietly.

“I… reckon so,” Arthur muttered. “What kind of a sick idiot would do this?”

“Someone deranged,” Juliette said.

They stood for a moment. Arthur turned the page around again to examine the picture. He couldn’t quite tell what it was meant to be, it looked like maybe wood, with trees in the background.

“Do you think it will be a map?” Juliette asked. “Do they… want to be found?”

“Who wants to be hunted down?” Arthur asked.

“Who does this?” Juliette returned.

Arthur shrugged. She was right, they weren’t exactly facing someone normal. The smell was getting worse the longer they stood.

“Let’s get out of here,” Arthur said.

“Alright,” Juliette agreed. 

He started back towards the horses, his gaze combing across the scene for any additional clues. That was all they were given; the killer hadn’t accidentally left anything else. Must’ve spent hours setting this all up…

They walked in silence, a somber mood settling across them. They returned to the horses and headed back to the main road. Neither knew where to go, they stood waiting for a moment.

“If only the Rhodes sheriff was not useless,” Juliette murmured.

Arthur looked over to her.

“I do not expect he will investigate further,” Juliette said. “A killer is offering their location, but I suspect the sheriff would ignore it.”

“Probably,” Arthur agreed. “Not much we can do without the other pieces.”

Juliette nodded.

“I suppose we should still alert him…” Juliette trailed off for a moment.

She turned to Arthur for his opinion and Arthur shrugged. He’d never told a sheriff anything unless it earned him money. This wasn’t somethin’ Arthur had ever encountered. He was grateful for that, weren’t a pretty sight.

“Can’t hurt, I reckon,” Arthur said. “They’ll bury the feller, at the very least.”

Juliette nodded again, deep in thought.

“What’re you thinkin’?” Arthur asked.

They were heading back towards Rhodes, but it wouldn’t take much for Arthur to agree to diverting their path. He was more than ready to move on, sheriff wouldn’t do nothin’, the guy was already dead.

Juliette did not answer him immediately, but he waited patiently and finally she said, “Where are the others?”

“Others?” Arthur asked with an uncertain frown.

“We found a piece of the message,” Juliette said.

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed slightly.

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted. “Ain’t ever seen nothin’ like this.”

“Neither have I,” Juliette said as her gaze slid forward again.

Arthur moved Whiskey to follow behind as a wagon appeared ahead. He waited until it was past before moving back to her side. He tugged out the paper again, studying it.

“Recognize it?” Juliette questioned.

“Not really,” Arthur said. “Looks familiar, but… reckon it could be anything.”

“I am afraid you are right,” Juliette said.

As solemn silence fell across them. Arthur wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Something reassuring? He didn’t know. He wanted to know if she was alright or not, seeing something like that…

“America is full of surprises,” Juliette said.

“How’s that?” Arthur questioned.

“I thought killing was supposed to be subtle,” Juliette said, a dark humor in her tone. “Yet everywhere I turn, it is so overt.”

“Haven’t seen anythin’ like that in France?” Arthur asked.

“Thankfully, no,” Juliette said. “Our murderers often do not make a scene of it… and if they do, it is very different from that. It is in the act, not the aftermath.”

“Huh?”

Juliette shrugged.

“Maybe it is just the people I was around… but they wanted you to know what they could do,” Juliette explained. “And it could happen to you. It was a show, sure, but very different from putting a head on a stake. That is a different message entirely.”

“Ain’t used to either,” Arthur said. “Sendin’ a message is one thing, but that…”

Juliette nodded. Neither of them understood why anyone would do that. It wasn’t like they wanted anyone specific to see it, Arthur might not have even noticed if Juliette hadn’t pointed it out.

A familiar voice called out to them and Arthur swore while Juliette smiled.

“Hey!” Miguel called. “Look who we found, Danny!”

“Hello, Miguel,” Juliette greeted.

“Where’s your falconer?” Miguel questioned instantly.

Arthur finally looked up to see the pair approaching them, seemingly having left Rhodes recently. Miguel looked at Arthur with a disappointed look. Arthur glowered and instantly Miguel smirked, happy by Arthur’s reaction. Arthur should’ve known better than to react, but he couldn’t stop it. Somehow he seemed to know how to get under Arthur’s skin. Arthur looked over at Juliette and she smiled gently.

Arthur let out a long breath and Juliette’s smile grew in amusement.

“I have no idea where Wyatt went,” Juliette said. “He mentioned Saint Denis, I believe.”

She glanced to Arthur and Arthur shrugged unhelpfully. He hadn’t really listened to a word the feller had said, he’d been to focused on glaring at him.

“Ah, so you met him?” Miguel asked. “Nice guy, isn’t he?”

“What d’you want?” Arthur grumbled.

Miguel laughed, while Daniel shook his head. Arthur was starting to understand why they hung around each other, Daniel seemed far too entertained by Miguel’s antics. He was willing to bet Daniel only stepped in when Miguel was about to get shot. Arthur unfortunately probably got the worst of it, now that they knew he wouldn't do anything to either of them.

“That’s no fun, señor,” Miguel huffed. 

Juliette brought Fleur to a halt as the bounty hunters approached them. Arthur followed her lead begrudgingly. He’d been around the two too much the past week. He wasn’t sure how patient he could be.

“Have either of you… seen anything strange lately?” Juliette asked.

“Strange?” Daniel asked.

He and Miguel exchanged a look.

“Not really,” Daniel said.

“This place is strange, Juliette,” Miguel scoffed. “Everyone here has skeletons buried in their fields.”

“Hm… well,” Juliette trailed off, considering her words. “We ran into something disturbing.”

“Disturbing how?” Daniel asked.

“A disemboweled body,” Juliette said

They seemed to be waiting for a punchline, but it never came. Again, they exchanged a look.

Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted the two involved… but he preferred them to the sheriff. He trusted Juliette’s judgement and somewhat trusted them. Having them keep an eye out for a killer would be useful, they were bounty hunters after all. Had to be used to this sort of crap.

They ended up leading the two back towards the body. Arthur was surprised at how little ground they’d really made, it didn’t take that long to return to the scene. They’d left the horses at the same point.

The disfigured body part remained where they’d left it. Daniel kneeled down beside it, using a stick to push it around.

“Why’re you doin’ that?” Arthur asked with a grimace.

“It’s nailed down,” Daniel explained.

Arthur moved to look and saw what Daniel meant. While Daniel held the body part propped up, Arthur could make out a piece of metal securing it to the ground.

“We found something similar,” Daniel said.

“Two places,” Miguel confirmed. “One just south of Valentine, the other between Valentine and Strawberry.”

“That is a fair distance,” Juliette said.

“Probably didn’t want it too close to his home,” Daniel said. “The rest of this bastard down the trail?”

“Some of him,” Arthur said.

“I’ll take a look then,” Daniel said. “Show ‘em what we found, would ya?”

Miguel nodded and Daniel started off again. He pulled out two more pieces of paper.

“Freak seems to want someone to find him,” Miguel said. “Left a message by each body.”

Juliette and Arthur shared a look.

“You guys find one?” Miguel asked.

Neither of them said anything. Juliette seemed to be leaving this to Arthur’s discretion. He could easily try and memorize their pieces and handle it himself… but if he was honest, he didn’t care enough. He pulled out the paper again and held out the scrap.

“Yep,” Arthur supplied.

Gunshots rang out distantly and instantly Arthur reached for his gun. He moved to stand in front of Juliette, his gaze hunting for the source of the sound.

“What d’you want to bet it’s your gang?” Miguel growled.

Arthur looked over at him briefly.

“It could have been anything,” Juliette said. “A hunter?”

“Bad hunter if they shot that many times,” Miguel scoffed.

More shots sounded, growing closer.

“We don’t want to get involved in whatever’s going on,” Arthur said lowly.

“You’re already involved,” Miguel said.

He didn’t know that for certain, but… it was possible. He hoped it wasn’t for plenty of reasons, namely right then so he wouldn’t have to make a choice between helping or staying. He waited, listening intently, but the gunfire ended.

Slowly Miguel relaxed, putting his revolver away. Arthur kept his grip on his own gun firm.

“The hell was that?” Daniel asked.

Arthur didn’t look back at him, but instead waited. He could hear horses approaching and his gaze flickered back to the forest briefly. If they had to, they could use it for cover. It wasn’t particularly dense, but it would do.

“Look who was right,” Miguel said.

Arthur saw what he meant. As the riders drew closer, he recognized all of them. He remained tense, uncertain quite how it would play out. He glanced over to Daniel and Miguel, both had a hand on their guns. Neither had them drawn, but they were ready.

Bill noticed them and muttered something to Micah. John was with them, only looking up as he heard the others talking. Arthur stood rigid. John studied Miguel and Daniel with a harsh frown, he knew exactly who they were.

“Marston,” Miguel called. “Staying out of trouble?”

Arthur swore under his breath while Daniel groaned.

“Miguel,” Juliette said in disbelief.

Miguel smirked, seemingly egged on by their reactions. John glared at Miguel. Bill’s hand was on his gun, but Arthur was more worried about Micah. He was the one that didn’t a reason, he’d shoot at the drop of a hat.

“Shut up,” John snapped.

John's gaze shifted to Arthur, a deep festering anger in his eyes. He had something to say alright, and Arthur was plenty sure he didn't want to hear it. 

Miguel nudged Daniel with his elbow and said lowly, “looks like he remembers me after all.”

“Don’t think anyone could forget you,” Daniel scoffed.

“No, it would be difficult,” Juliette agreed.

“Hangin’ with bounty hunters now, Morgan?” Bill asked roughly.

They were still riding past, but they had slowed. The path was far enough from them that casual conversation wasn’t an option, they had to raise their voices to be heard.

“What the hell was that?” Arthur returned. “Sounded like you robbed a bank.”

“We’re workin’,” Bill scoffed. “Not having a party on the side of the road.”

Bill looked past Arthur, seemingly just spotting Juliette. Arthur stood up taller, his agitation growing. He said something and John looked as well. Arthur saw movement in the corner of his eye as Miguel drew his gun, moving closer to them.

Arthur watched them until they were safely past, before finally holstering his gun.

“Seems like you trust your gang less than us,” Daniel commented.

“Don’t start shit for the hell of it,” Arthur snapped. “I reckon they know who you are.”

“Would they shoot at you?” Miguel asked.

Arthur didn’t answer him, but he didn’t need to. Micah would, Arthur knew he would. John and Bill… he certainly hoped they had better sense than that, but he found himself questioning them more and more. They were stupid, and stupid was dangerous these days.

“Inciting a gun fight is not a good plan,” Juliette said tiredly. 

Miguel stared at her for a moment, before shrugging.

“Forgot you were here for a moment,” Miguel said. “Just wanted to test a theory.”

“Theory on how to get killed?” Arthur asked.

Again, Miguel shrugged.

“I would prefer it if you did not get yourself, Daniel, or Arthur shot,” Juliette said pointedly.

“If they’ve got that short of a fuse, they’ll shoot one of us eventually,” Daniel reasoned.

His gaze was settled on Arthur. Arthur frowned at him. He hadn't been the one begging to get shot. 

“Eventually does not need to be today,” Juliette said tiredly. “They are outlaws.”

“Yeah, they are,” Miguel agreed.

Arthur didn’t say anything. Every word Juliette could use to defend Arthur, they could easily twist. They weren’t wrong either, but he didn’t need the reminder.

“There are worse people we should worry about,” Juliette sighed. “Namely, whoever did this. You are bounty hunters, surely this would earn enough money to make it worth your while.”

“It ain’t always about money,” Daniel said. “We know what these kinds of people do. Seen it all too often. Get anyone close to them killed-“

“I ain’t puttin’ heads on spikes,” Arthur snapped angrily.

He’d bit his tongue plenty, he couldn’t didn’t need to put up with it anymore. He was well aware of who he was. Weren’t like they were all that much better.

“Y’know that feller you roped Juliette into helping you catch shot her,” Arthur said.

Miguel and Daniel exchanged a look, before looking to Juliette to see if it was true. They didn't know. He figured she hadn't told them, but he wasn't ready for them to act all high and mighty when they'd nearly gotten her killed. 

Juliette sighed heavily, and Arthur wilted. She sounded frustrated. Juliette rubbed at her eyes. 

“Then I guess we have something in common, huh?” Miguel questioned.

“More than you’d think,” Arthur growled. “You ain’t all that good neither.”

“Better than an outlaw,” Daniel said. “We haven’t shot up a single town, let alone five.”

“Your hands ain’t clean,” Arthur snapped. “Bounty hunting ain’t exactly honest work.”

“Less honest ‘n killin’ folk for their money?” Daniel demanded.

Arthur glared at them, his hand balling into a fist.

“Reckon that depends, don’t it?” Arthur asked scathingly.

Miguel watched the two uneasily. He’d started it, but he didn’t seem to think it’d go this far. Usually Daniel was the peacemaker, but this time he was the one going to far. It was clear to anyone, Miguel didn’t know how to play in any other role. He simply stood.

“You are all infuriating,” Juliette said.

“All?” Miguel asked. He silenced under Juliette’s harsh look.

“I do believe we were here trying to track a killer, not to tear each other’s throats out,” Juliette snapped. “But please, by all means, start a gunfight.”

“Jules-“ Arthur began. 

“Foolish of me to think either of you could work together for a moment,” Juliette said.

She walked away from them back to the horses. Fleur instantly moved towards Juliette and Juliette mounted her. She stared at the group with a frown for a moment, before shaking her head. They watched as Juliette left, she headed in the opposite direction that Bill, John, and Micah had. At least he didn’t have to worry about that.

Arthur sighed and rubbed at his eyes. How had this day gone wrong so quickly?

“Just find the bastard, would ya?” Arthur asked tiredly.

He held out his piece of the map and Daniel accepted it slowly. They watched him closely, as if this was a trap. At any moment he’d turn and shoot them. Instead, Arthur merely walked to Whiskey. He hauled himself into the saddle.

“Don’t be baitin’ the rest of the gang,” Arthur warned. “They ain’t all that patient.”

“You love her?” Daniel asked.

Arthur looked away from them, glancing down the way she’d left.

“Yeah.”

~*~

Arthur ended up spending the rest of the day out hunting. He didn’t feel like doing much else. He didn’t want to go back to camp, but he hadn’t run into Juliette again. Not that he’d expected to. He didn’t look, well aware she probably needed some space.

He knew he shouldn’t have retaliated, shouldn’t have argued, but in that moment, he couldn’t stop himself. He’d forgotten entirely she was there; he’d been so focused on what they had said. He’d certainly said worse about himself, but he hated hearing it from them. They acted like they knew him better than he did… maybe they did.

He’d ended up catching a good amount for only a few hours work, a sizable deer, and two hares. Not bad at all. He’d gotten better since learning from Charles, strangely aiming with a bow wasn’t much different than a gun. The adjustment didn’t take much time.

By the time he returned to camp, the sun had fallen beneath the horizon, and he’d calmed plenty. As he rode into camp, he spotted Sean leaned against a large tree, his eyes closed.

“You keepin’ watch, boy? Or you just catchin’ up on your sleep?” Arthur asked.

“Ay I’m keep watch plenty fine, King Arthur,” Sean remarked. “My eyes are sharper than all of you all ol' bastards.”

“Still can’t aim, can ya?” Arthur scoffed.

He continued past before Sean could muster a response. He dismounted Whiskey and tended to him, before heading to Pearson. Eyes watched him as he crossed camp and he knew he all too well someone had been drinking too much.

Bill walked towards him, stumbling as he did.

“Walk away,” Arthur commanded.

“I ain’t done nothin’, Morgan,” Bill protested, his words slurring.

“Listen to him, you drunken fool,” Hosea said.

Arthur glanced over to see Hosea settled at one of the tables, playing poker with a few others.

“Join us, Arthur,” Hosea said.

“Can’t,” Arthur grunted. “Got supplies for Pearson.”

“Good work, Arthur,” Charles commented. “Didn’t find much today myself, looks like you had better luck.”

“Aw sure he did,” Bill agreed.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. He tried his best to ignore Bill and continued towards Pearson’s area. He lost Bill somewhere along the way, idiot was lost enough he could lost in their own damn camp. Pearson appeared and instantly accepted the deer and hares from Arthur.

“Mighty fine haul there,” Pearson said. “This’ll keep us fed a while longer. Hey, when you get the chance talk to Dutch, would you?”

“Why?” Arthur asked.

Pearson started to skin one of the hare on the table before him. Arthur looped his hands through his gun belt, waiting for Pearson’s attention to be on him again.

“Skin that deer for me,” Pearson said.

“Always puttin’ me to work,” Arthur scoffed.

He did as told despite his complaint. He didn’t mind it much, it was busywork, but he couldn’t think much right then. His mind was blank, a heavy weight settled in his chest.

“Gotta, not many people do much ‘round here,” Pearson said. “Back in the navy-“

“Spare me, would ya?” Arthur said. “Don’t need to hear what you got up to back then.”

“Well it wasn’t a luxury like this,” Pearson said. “We got close to drinkin’ our own-“

“Dutch,” Arthur interrupted. “You said to talk to Dutch, why the hell did you say that?”

“Heard word about a way to end this feud with the O’Driscolls-“

Arthur scoffed.

“Listen, Arthur,” Pearson said. “This feud will be the death of us if we ain’t careful. Dutch won’t listen to me, but maybe- just maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“You want me to propose endin’ the feud with the O’Driscolls?” Arthur repeated. “You got Colm tied up somewhere? That’s the only way Dutch wants to end it, you know that.”

“I know, I know,” Pearson said. “But, I-I think this will work-“

“I ain’t puttin’ my neck on the line for this,” Arthur said. “I ain’t a fool, Pearson.”

“Fine,” Pearson huffed. “I’ll find someone else then…”

Arthur shook his head. That was a bad bet if Arthur had ever heard one. The feud between Dutch and Colm ran deep. At this point, Arthur couldn’t rightfully say he knew how it all started. Dutch killed Colm’s brother and Colm killed… Annabelle. Dutch hadn’t ever been right since then. Dutch claimed it began the moment Annabelle died, but well… that wasn’t really the truth. They’d had a long fight with the O’Driscolls, stolen from them plenty, killed even more, and they’d done the same to them. Arthur was tired of it.

“I want it to end,” Arthur said. “But I ain’t so sure Dutch does.”

“I’ll talk to him about it,” Pearson promised. “It’ll end Arthur, it will end.”

“Whatever you say,” Arthur decided.

Once he had finished skinning the deer, Arthur took off before Pearson could stop him. He rubbed the blood off onto his pants, deciding to get something to eat. Kieran walked near Arthur, but immediately stumbled away once he realized it was him.

“Evenin’, Arthur,” Kieran stuttered.

Arthur used to like how Kieran jumped at the sight of him. Now he wasn’t sure anymore. He didn’t have the same burning hatred towards him Bill and Sadie had. He didn’t quite like him, but he was more alright with the feller ever since they’d gone fishing.

“Evenin’,” Arthur returned.

He stopped at the stew pot and got himself some.

“Gone fishin’ with anymore naked men?” Arthur asked.

“Christ,” Kieran said. “Like to not think about that… wasn’t a bad day, though. I liked fishin’ with ya, when you weren’t threatenin’ me.”

“If it weren’t fun to threaten ya, we’d all stop,” Arthur said.

He walked towards a campfire and Kieran followed. He did that a lot, followed whoever was decent to him. Like a damned puppy, anyone that didn’t swear or threaten him, he’d follow until they did. Arthur was trying to be better, but Kieran sure tested his patience at times.

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” Kieran said. He glanced around to see who was around before continuing, “I really think one of ‘em will do it one of these days, Sadie or Bill.”

“Well, when they do, I’ll be sure to congratulate them,” Arthur said as he settled at the campfire.

Kieran sat beside him and after a look from Arthur, he moved further away. Kieran stared down and fiddled with his hands.

“This ain’t… can’t you say somethin’?” Kieran asked. 

Arthur took a spoon of the stew. It was still warm, thankfully. He'd had plenty of nights he'd returned to late to find the stew cold. 

“Can,” Arthur said. Kieran looked up hopefully. “Nah, but I won’t.”

Kieran’s shoulders slumped.

“It ain’t exactly an easy thing, O’Driscoll-“

“I ain’t an O’Driscoll!” Kieran protested.

“And you ain’t one of us yet,” Arthur said. “None of us like you much, but you leave and you get killed.”

“I stay and I get killed-“

“If you don’t stop your moanin’ you just might,” Arthur snapped.

Kieran winced and Arthur took the silence as a chance to eat. Charles sat across the fire on a crate. He had in hand supplies, arrows among other things.

“Whatchu workin’ on?” Arthur questioned.

“Fire arrows,” Charles explained. “You get me a bottle of moonshine; I’ll make you some.”

“Just missed a full wagon there, Charles,” Arthur chuckled.

“I heard about that,” Charles said. “Hosea seemed pretty happy.”

“He better have been,” Arthur said.

Arthur still hadn't recovered from that venture. He could hear those idiots laughter ringing in his ears still. 

Charles looked at Kieran for a moment with a frown, before turning back to his work. Arthur watched, but he couldn't comprehend exactly what Charles was doing. Fire arrows sounded like a good way for Arthur to light himself up, but... he was curious. Maybe he would have to look for some moonshine. 

“He doesn’t even like me,” Kieran said quietly.

“I don’t even like you,” Arthur scoffed.

“I know, I know,” Kieran huffed.

Charles looked at Kieran with a scowl. Kieran froze, as if Charles was about to attack him with his bare hands. Arthur watched in amusement.

“You need to stop your incessant bellyaching,” Charles said. “Do some work, real work, and maybe someone will warm up to you.”

Kieran didn’t have a reply, but instead seemed to find silence safer. Arthur agreed with him, the more he kept quiet, the less likely he was to get shot. He was an annoying presence in camp, but some folks found pleasure in tormenting him. Sean, Bill, and Sadie were high on that list. Arthur wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. Sadie might just kill him in his sleep if Kieran did say the wrong thing, he wouldn’t put it past her. Wouldn’t blame her neither.

“Where’ve you been all day?” Charles asked. “Hunting?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Arthur muttered.

“I’ll tell ya where he’s been,” Bill began.

Arthur frowned and his eyes narrowed. The smell of liquor washed across him as Bill walked closer.

“You’ll fall in the fire if you’re not careful,” Charles said.

“Sittin’ with the O’Driscoll ‘n, ‘n, talkin’ with bounty hunters,” Bill began. He was starting to sound incoherent, his words slurring. “Reckon I don’t know who your allegiance is with no more, Morgan!”

Arthur did his best to ignore him. When Bill got drunk and angry, best thing was to not give him a reaction. Or to pull a gun on him. Both seemed to work, but one worked faster than the other.

“Bill thought I told you-“ Arthur began.

“You ain’t tellin’ me nothin’!” Bill shouted.

He stumbled closer and Arthur tensed.

“Bill,” Hosea warned. “Go lay down before you make a fool of yourself.”

“Bastard drew a gun on us,” Bill snapped. “If I weren’t mistaken- I’d- I’d think you prefer them! Who were those? Hidin’ a pretty lady-“

Instantly Arthur was on his feet, stepping towards Bill. Bill stumbled back, but tried to hold his ground as Arthur closed the distance between them. Movement sounded behind them, but Arthur ignored it.

“Another word,” Arthur threatened.

“You gonna leave us like Marston?” Bill sneered.

Before Bill could react, Arthur hit him hard. Bill collapsed to the ground, he’d already been swaying plenty, but the blow from Arthur knocked him on his ass.

“Try it again,” Arthur said, his voice taking on a harsh tone.

Bill stared up at him, his eyes wide for a moment, before he scowled.

“Always out of camp-“ Bill began.

Arthur lurched forward, but before he could punch him again, arms grabbed him to hold him back. Arthur looked to see Charles behind him, glaring down at Bill.

“He’s a drunk fool, Arthur,” Charles reminded.

“Gonna feel the consequences to it,” Arthur growled.

“You would’ve shot me?” Bill asked.

“My gun wasn't drawn," Arthur snapped. "Weren’t you I was worried about either, should I be?” 

Bill moved to stand up and instantly Arthur kicked him back down.

“Arthur, enough,” Hosea said. “Bill get out of here.”

Bill’s gaze moved from Arthur, to Charles, then to Hosea.

“I get it, I’m-I’m the expendable one! Good ol’ Bill, loyal Bill, won’t question a thing- always- always the one sent to do the dirty work while these two get to run off! Morgan’ll shoot ol’ loyal Bill ‘n-‘n no one’ll question it! I ain’t properly respected-“

“You’re testing my patience now,” Charles warned. 

“God forbid,” Bill sneered.

Charles released Arthur and instead pulled his own gun.

“Get out of here,” Charles snapped.

Bill seemed to consider it for a moment, before finally getting to his feet. He stared them down for a moment, but instantly started to move as Hosea walked closer. He was scared of Hosea, as he should be. Hosea _would _shoot Bill.

Bill stalked off, mumbling to himself.

“Think he’s done?” Charles asked.

“Don’t know,” Arthur muttered. “Could still dump ‘im in the lake.”

“I think you taught him enough of a lesson, Arthur,” Hosea said. “Scared Kieran away. Boy bolted for the goddamn hills.”

Arthur turned to see Kieran’s spot was left completely vacant. Nothin’ quite got Kieran movin’ like confrontation. That was at least one good thing of Bill’s stupidity, scared Kieran clean off. Arthur sat down again, some part of him wanted to leave. He was tired and it was late, this was the best he could do for the night. Any camp he wanted to make himself would sloppy.

“He ain’t wrong,” John said.

Arthur looked over to see John leaned against a pile of crates nearby, having watched the entire exchange. He'd lurking, waiting for his chance. Arthur had known John had something to say, he'd only hoped to avoid him long enough he got his head on straight. 

“You looked ready to shoot us,” John growled.

“Well?” Arthur snapped. “Weren’t given me much choice were you? Off shootin’ for the hell of it, were you?”

“We were doin’ a job,” John retaliated. “Who the hell were they?”

“Workin’ a job of my own,” Arthur snarled. “Till you scared them off. Goin’ to get a bounty-“

“Yeah?” John asked. “You?”

“Enough,” Hoesa said tiredly. “Can we go a minute without a fight for one fucking night?” 

Neither of them said a word, but John skulked nearby. He wasn’t done, and Arthur wasn’t about to lie down.

“Well?” John demanded.

“Well what, Marston? If you got a point, make it,” Arthur snapped.

He rose to his feet and as he did, Charles followed suit, his gaze flicking between them.

“Let’s all calm down,” Charles said. “It’s been a long day-“

“He’s been giving me shit for years-“ John began heatedly.

“Cause you ran off on all of us!” Arthur shouted. “Your kid, Abigail, us-“

“Act like you ain’t preparin’ to do the same,” John snarled. “Out of camp more than you’re in it, ain’t you? We finally figured out who you're spending it with-”

Arthur moved forward and instantly Charles moved between them.

“Can’t you two wait until the morning,” Hosea reasoned. “This is all-“

“I want to hear it, Hosea,” John said. “I want to hear why he’s allowed to leave.”

“I ain’t runnin’ off with my tail tucked between my legs like you did, Marston,” Arthur said. “I ain’t a cowardly fool that can’t step up.”

“Who the hell was she then?” John asked.

“A job,” Arthur lied.

John’s eyes narrowed; his disbelief clear. Arthur didn't need to explain himself, certainly not to John. 

“With bounty hunters?” John asked incredulously.

“Why the hell not?! We’re waltzing around Rhodes as goddamned deputies,” Arthur said, his voice rising.

He took a step forward and Charles readied himself. Arthur made no movement to hit John, but John remained firm. How long had he really been waiting for this fight? Days?

“You’re pathetic,” Arthur scoffed. “Got too much time on your hands if you been watchin’ me all that closely.”

“Someone’s gotta,” John said. “Acting like you’re gonna run, ain’t you? Only comin’ into camp for a few minutes, before you’re off again.”

“Work to be done, but I guess you don’t know much about that-“

John’s hand tightened into a fist and more people appeared around them, Javier was waiting nearby, ready to break up a fight. Micah was watching them with a sneer. Arthur’s gaze flickered across Abigail to see her worried expression. Instantly Arthur hesitated. She stared back at him uncertainly and Arthur sighed in frustration. John looked over at Abigail, and his mood only worsened.

“You really like to act all high and mighty, don’t chu?” John said. Anger laced his words, Arthur wasn’t sure the last time they’d fought like this. They’d had bad days, but it’d been a while since Arthur had wanted to see him bleed.

“You ain’t any better than me,” John said scathingly. “You would’ve ran, just the same-“

“That’s exactly where you’re wrong,” Arthur said, his anger returning full force. “I never would’ve ran, Marston. I ain’t like you. That boy needed you- Abigail needed you, and where were you? Who fucking knows! We coulda used an extra gun at the very least, but you were too damn busy sulking, weren’t you? Miserable bastard.”

Arthur was nothing like John. He never got a second chance, not like he did. When he left, Isaac died. Eliza died. When John left, the whole gang was around. Arthur was there, once again having to clean up his mess. He’d been the one to sit with Abigail on long nights while she cried, he’d been the one watching Jack like a fucking wet nurse. All for what? John to return and act like nothing had happened. For the gang to accept him back. They forget all the times they needed him… all the moments Arthur had needed him. He’d been like a brother to Arthur at one point. Only one Arthur would’ve even considered saying a word about Isaac… but John left before he even got the chance. He’d left them all for dead without a word. Some brother he was. 

“You ain’t know nothin’,” John said. “You don’t know what it’s like-“

Arthur’s gaze turned murderous and immediately people were around them, protecting John, shielding him from Arthur. Poor fucking John couldn’t even finish his own fights. Never could. Arthur always had to, he’d gotten his fair share of black eyes because of John.

“That’s enough,” Hosea said firmly.

He had a gun in his hand. Arthur’s gaze remained on it for a moment, before moving back to John. Who would he shoot? Arthur or John? Arthur had a sneaking suspicion he the answer to that question. Arthur had been the one that stayed, protected them all, but in that moment he was the enemy. 

“Looks like the whole camp’s already forgotten,” Arthur said lowly. “I ain’t yet.”

Arthur turned and stalked off. A voice called after him, but Arthur ignored it. He didn’t need to hear it. Clearly, he couldn’t do anything right that day. As he walked towards the horses, Kieran appeared.

“Is-is everything alright, Arthur?” Kieran asked hesitantly.

He shrunk under Arthur’s glare.

“Everything’s just fine,” Arthur said. “Welcome to camp life, rest of our goddamned lives. Goddamn idiots yelling every night, starting fights for the hell of it.”

“O-oh,” Kieran managed.

He merely watched as Arthur retreated to Whiskey. He mounted him and instantly started away from the camp, back down the path he’d came down less than an hour ago. That was what camp had been lately alright, he’d return only to be given reasons to leave. He wasn’t like John, he wouldn’t just bolt. Half the gang sure acted like they wanted him to, but he was loyal.

“Leaving already, Arthur?” Sean asked, his voice far too chipper for how angry Arthur was. Arthur bit his tongue and kept quiet as he passed by.

“Not even a kiss goodnight?” Sean asked.

“Would a bullet suffice?” Arthur asked under his breath.

Sean quieted for a moment.

“Someone’s in a bad mood,” Sean said, his voice distant as Arthur continued to put as much space between him and Sean as he could.

He roamed for a while, but ended up in the Rhodes saloon. He remained for a while in a seat towards the back, nursing a glass of whiskey. There weren’t many people in the saloon that late, only a few stragglers from the evening remained. At some point in the night, the last two people Arthur ever wanted to see wandered in. Strangely, Miguel didn’t greet him. Instead, he pretended not to notice, but Arthur knew they saw him.

They spent the majority of their time across the bar, talking to each other. Arthur watched for a while, waiting for something to start. Nothing did. The moment he did stop watching, they walked over and sat at the table with him.

“Don’t remember askin’ for company,” Arthur grumbled.

“We have business to discuss,” Miguel said.

Daniel wouldn’t look at Arthur, but that was plenty fine with him. Miguel held out some cash and Arthur frowned.

“I ain’t about to sell anyone out,” Arthur snapped.

Miguel smirked and said,” If you were, we’d pay more than this.”

Arthur stared at him for a moment, before cautiously accepting the cash.

“Found that killer,” Miguel said. “No bounty, but the sheriff paid for him anyway.”

“Ten whole dollars?” Arthur asked. “Ain’t this my lucky day.”

“You barely did any work,” Daniel reminded. “We had to hunt him down.”

He pocketed the cash. Now at least he wasn’t lying about it being a job, he’d gotten paid.

“Found him awfully quick,” Arthur said before taking a long drink.

“We recognized the cellar,” Miguel explained. “Could get in and wait for him to return.”

“Still somehow jumped you,” Daniel said.

Arthur looked to Miguel and Miguel huffed.

“You were there to save me,” Miguel said. “Didn’t matter in the end!”

“Closed quarters isn’t the best place to rely on my aim,” Daniel said.

Arthur wouldn't to ever rely on a one eyed man's aim. 

Miguel glanced to Daniel uneasily. Daniel got up and moved back to the bar. Miguel sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. A loose curly strand fell down in his face, making him look all the more disheveled and tired.

“Today has not been my friend,” Miguel said.

He stared down at his beer, before finally drinking.

“Reckon that’s mostly your fault, ain’t it?” Arthur asked.

“Usually is,” Miguel agreed.

Arthur relaxed in his seat. All he needed now was John or Bill to wander in and see him drinking with bounty hunters. They sure would love that, might just shoot up the saloon. He wasn’t quite sure what had gotten in their heads to question his loyalty like that. Bill was always sour, but he knew Arthur was loyal. John had been talking to him too much. Micah too.

“Gang life treating you well?” Miguel questioned.

There wasn’t an amused or mischievous undertone in his words. Arthur wasn’t sure he’d ever heard that from Miguel, usually he had a look in his eyes that made clear he was trouble. That was missing.

“Not particularly,” Arthur grumbled. “Already know we’re in a bad spot, I’m sure.”

Miguel shrugged.

“Heard rumors,” he admitted. “We talked some… and… if you were to ever want to get out…” Arthur frowned at Miguel but didn’t interrupt. Miguel sighed again. “Well we could lend a hand, make sure you don’t get killed on the way out.”

“I appreciate it,” Arthur said slowly. “But I ain’t gonna get out anytime soon, I’m afraid. She knows. Gang’s in a mess, a mess I helped cause. Ain’t leavin’ them to clean it up.”

“Figured as much,” Miguel said.

He sounded frustrated, but he didn’t pull a gun on Arthur. He’d half expected the end of their conversation to be him finally killing him after knowing the truth of the matter.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” Arthur asked.

He held his glass, shifting it to watch the amber liquid fall against the bottom. Not much was left, certainly not enough for Arthur to drown his sorrows in.

Miguel shrugged.

“She is our friend,” Miguel said. “I suspect she could use someone looking out for her… not just from you,” Miguel added as Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “Lot of bad people out here. We’ve seen our fair share of good people die… for no good reason.”

Miguel took another drink.

“And for whatever reason, she likes you,” Miguel said. “Bad taste in men, but… who am I to judge?”

Miguel’s gaze lingered on Daniel for a moment, before he looked down at the table.

“Why hasn’t he shot me?” Arthur asked.

“Hmm… mostly because of me,” Miguel said as he cracked a smile. “He’s not fond of your gang… had a bad encounter with them a few years back.”

“Seems everyone has now,” Arthur said.

“Proud of that?” Miguel asked.

“Not particularly.”

For the first time, Arthur didn’t mind Miguel’s company. It helped Miguel wasn’t taunting him or trying to test him. Alcohol helped plenty. Eventually both Miguel and Daniel left. At some point Arthur got shooed out of the saloon, sent out on his own.

The night was quiet, few sounds interrupted the silence. Bugs chirped distantly. The air was sharp and cold, woke him up some. Arthur found Whiskey where he'd left him and started back towards camp.

Time lapsed, but he hardly noticed. It wasn't until he was stood at the final bend of the road that he realized where he was. He didn’t bother checking the time, it was an ungodly hour. No one in their right mind should be awake then. Luckily, Javier was on guard. Didn’t say a word to Arthur as he returned, merely nodded.

Arthur left Whiskey with the horses and walked towards his area. He saw distant figures roaming on the edge of the camp, moving on their patrol. Arthur sighed and collapsed onto his cot. The moment he was down, his eyes closed and he was asleep. Didn’t feel like he slept long at all. All too soon, he heard voices shouting. He blinked and groaned. Miss Grimshaw was yelling at someone… probably Tilly or Mary Beth. She liked to yell at the ladies, call them insubordinate, lazy.

Arthur knew better than to step in, but he didn’t particularly like it.

After a while, things quieted, but Arthur couldn’t quite sleep again. Felt like his eyes had closed for a second and he'd gotten woken up. He half expected it to be dark out still, but light filtered through their camp. He let out a long breath. He got up, groggy and exhausted. He wandered blearily to get a cup of coffee. People shifted around him, watching him closely. Arthur noticed, but didn’t care enough to comment.

He wasn't even the one that started anything the first time, he certainly wasn't about to pick fights in the morning. He was tired. He missed Juliette. 

“Feeling better, Morgan?” Sadie simpered. 

She apparently was the bravest of the camp, only one willing to dare speak to him in case he attacked again. That was how they all were watching him, like he was a goddamned animal about to strike.

“Not really,” Arthur grunted.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a drink. It burned his tongue, but it always did. He could feel himself slowly come back to life. Still wasn't fully awake, but he didn't feel half dead anymore. 

“Never heard your voice so loud,” Sadie commented. She seemed to find a strange humor in it. Arthur didn't find any of it funny. “Thought you’d shake this whole camp to the ground.”

“Got a point?” Arthur asked.

“Nah,” Sadie said. “You shoulda seen that O’Driscoll, never seen him so frightened.”

Arthur smiled slightly. Of course, that’d made her happy. It took a lot to scare Sadie, as he’d learned. It didn’t surprise him she was unafraid of him. She’d started a gunfight with a bunch of raiders without a second thought. They won, but Arthur could only remember the wild look in her eyes. A look like she was ready to fight the whole world if she had to. 

“I was hoping you’d scared him off for good,” Sadie commented.

“Thought you wanted to kill him yourself?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, I do,” Sadie reassured. “If he gives me a reason…”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Arthur said. “Awfully frightening, Mrs. Adler.”

“When I have to be,” Sadie agreed. She took a drink of her own coffee, looking around the camp as she did. She crossed her arms, her fingers drumming against the metal mug as she thought. “You know… I heard somethin’ strange earlier.”

“Strange?” Arthur repeated with a tired yawn.

Sadie nodded. Arthur rubbed at his eyes.

“Strange how?” Arthur asked.

“Somethin’ about makin’ peace with O’Driscolls?” Sadie asked, her voice taking an edge. “Micah was talkin’ about it earlier, boasting.”

“Micah?” Arthur repeated.

Pearson apparently had found the right fool. Arthur looked over to Dutch’s tent. He couldn't see anything from the angle they were at. Micah was lurking nearby Dutch's tent, his gaze shifting around the camp. 

“He spoken to Dutch yet?” Arthur asked.

“Not as far as I can tell,” Sadie said. “He’s been waiting for him all morning. I ain’t exactly keen on peace with those murderers.”

“I don’t think Dutch is neither,” Arthur mumbled.

He took another drink, before shaking out his mug and walking towards Dutch’s tent.

“I’ll figure it out,” he promised Sadie as he left.

He wasn’t sure when they’d ever become peacemakers, certainly hadn’t been in a long time. If they could bury the hatchet… well Arthur wouldn’t complain. He wasn’t sure either side could, the possibility seemed too good to be true.

This wouldn’t end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've had weird days where it seems like someone is just dead set on fighting me and I was thinking arthur's gotta have plenty of those, right? I always wanted a big blow out in the game between Arthur and John yelling in camp, because... they deserve it? They're both so incredibly bad at talking and expressing themselves and the whole John leaving business never really got solved imo. Arthur has all the right in the world to be mad, but he's been bottling it up so long it would explode. It doesn't help no one would know why Arthur was mad either.  
this chapter's end at first was going to be extremely different, arthur was gonna have a good time with jules n then lead into peacemakers... but i was talking with my best friend about it and i mentioned a scene idea of gunfire then some gang members ride past and arthur's got that issue of that's his gang but juliette is also right there... and then i had a bad thought of _miguel could be a bastard_  
i so desperately want to talk more about this chapter leading into the next and why certain events that happen in game are explained through this but uh... that'd be spoilers! so i'll contain myself for now :")  
if you read my ramblings thank you so much! I hope you guys are all safe and well <3


	19. Blessed are the Peacemakers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uhhhh might have updated yesterday. might have updated today. I didn't really realize how much time i'd spent writing until it was already evening but... sure! It's better than working on homework that's for sure :') gotta keep busy during quarantine

Arthur listened through Pearson’s tale to Dutch, but through most of his story Arthur was only half listening. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep to properly deal with all this shit. Micah spouting off, insulting everyone near him, Pearson acting like he was a hero, and Dutch being… well Dutch.

He’d taken to the idea of a parley as well as Arthur had figured. Micah somehow seemed to garner Dutch’s attention, if not for him Dutch would’ve already silenced Pearson. Arthur stopped listening at some point, until Hosea spoke up. He was sitting at one of the tables, reading a newspaper. He’d only looked over upon hearing about the O’Driscolls.

“They want a parley?” Hosea asked in disbelief. Arthur didn’t need to ask what he thought about it, Hosea’s expression made it clear he thought this was just as stupid as the rest of them. “It’s a trap.”

“Well of course! It’s… probably a trap,” Micah readily said. Arthur looked over to him uncertainly. Why was he so invested in this? Arthur had thought he thrived off of starting shit they didn’t need. “But what have we got to lose finding out?”

“Our lives,” Arthur scoffed. “I don’t want to get shot walking into a trap we damn well know is a trap.”

Micah frowned at Arthur. Arthur almost wanted Micah to start something one night, give Arthur an excuse to hit him. Micah was a scrawny man that resembled a rat more than a human. Only power he had were his guns, the moment those were gone Micah had nothing. Arthur could do plenty of damage with just his bare hands, and Micah seemed to know it.

“Don’t worry, cowpoke,” Micah said. “No, one’ll miss you.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, Dutch spoke up.

“I ain’t keen on losing any more men to this war,” Dutch said.

Arthur nodded in agreement, his gaze settling back on Micah.

“We ain’t getting shot because you’ll be protecting us,” Micah said. 

Arthur let out a heavy breath.

“It’s a trap, sure,” Micah agreed. “But we all know you’re a better shot than any of them. You shoot up the lot of them… and if it ain’t a trap, that slim chance-“

“I don’t see a point to any of this,” Dutch snapped.

He walked between Micah and Pearson, heading towards Hosea. They followed him over, Arthur was plenty aware this wasn’t over. Micah liked to keep testing his luck, restating his point, until he wore down the opposition. Arthur just didn’t get why Micah was so insistent on this. He hadn’t been with them all that long, he’d never seen the worst of their fight with the O’Driscolls. Pearson, Arthur understood. He’d seen plenty. But, Micah?

“It’s a chance we gotta take,” Micah pressed.

Dutch leaned against the table, setting his hands squarely against the top.

“I killed Colm’s brother… long time ago,” Dutch said.

Hosea slowly stood up, while Dutch looked at the rest of the camp.

“And he killed a woman… I loved dearly,” Dutch said.

That always silenced Arthur and Hosea. They both understood how much that had affected Dutch, how deep that wound was. Neither of them wanted to dredge it up again, they were content leaving well enough alone. They’d almost lost the O’Driscolls after Blackwater, if they’d kept their heads low this war might already be over. Instead the reignited it. There was no telling if they could even stick to a peace treaty, if they’d be the ones to cross it. Arthur wouldn’t put it past Dutch to try and kill Colm, even after they’d shaken hands. There were somethings you just couldn’t forgive.

“As you say, it’s a long time ago, Dutch,” Micah said.

Arthur wasn’t sure he liked Micah being the one to speak up. They all wanted this to be over, but…

Dutch was quiet a moment, searching the camp for a moment. When he looked back, Arthur knew it was over. He had that look in his eyes he always got. That determination and certainty, it was a look that’d get them all killed. Dutch got an idea in his head and there was no letting go of it. Arthur was growing weary of that look. Years back- hell months back he’d been inspired by it. Now it just made him feel exhausted wondering what they were about to get dragged through.

“Let’s go,” Dutch said. His tone had shifted, he truly was ready to go to war. “You and me, with Arthur protecting us… no one else!”

Hosea shook his head in defeat. He thought this was a bad idea, and Arthur was inclined to agree.

“You’re bringing Micah to a peace negotiation?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

Dutch had already started towards the horses and Micah followed closely. It was clear to Arthur there wasn’t any room to argue, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“I am the one that brought it to Dutch,” Micah reminded.

Arthur didn’t like his tone in the slightest. He sounded self-important, as if he’d done the gang all this big grand favor. This stupid idea had been Pearson’s, but at the very least Pearson had the decency to not beat a dead horse. He’d given up, while Micah insisted.

“If you’re too scared, we’ll find someone else,” Dutch said irritably. “But you’re our best shot, I trust no one else with defending our lives better.”

“Uhh, fine,” Arthur groaned.

At least it would get him out of camp before Bill gathered his courage. Last Arthur had seen him that morning, he’d had a real nasty bruise. Arthur was quite proud of it, but knew he’d get to hear all about it if he hung around too long. John had been creeping around, watching Arthur like he was about to strike. He reminded Arthur too much of a wolf then, ironic considering his own pack and torn apart his face.

Even then, Arthur could see John watching. He’d settled at one of the campfires, watching as they left camp. Arthur bit back a taunt, he was too old to get in fights anymore. Far too old to start them for the hell of it, he had more important things to do than rile John up. He’d need at least a beer before doing it.

They mounted their horses and started out of camp. Micah led the way, with Dutch following closely behind. Arthur took the back, unwilling to be close enough to Micah to hear a word he said. He’d never been more grateful for the loud stomping of the horses, it easily drowned out whatever Micah had to say.

“You know, I’ve been fighting Colm for so long now…” Dutch began.

Arthur looked up, and spurred Whiskey on enough to be able to listen to Dutch. He could ignore Micah, but he couldn’t ignore Dutch.

“I can barely remember a time when it was different.”

“And you’re still fighting him now, make no mistake of that,” Arthur reminded.

They’d done plenty to the O’Driscolls in the past few months. Shot up one of their camps, stole their plans, and robbed a train. Arthur had more encounters with them, but it was always smaller groups. Pairs of O’Driscolls would see him and try to start something.

“Here he goes,” Micah said. “Doubting Thomas… is there any plan you ain’t sour on?”

Arthur didn’t say anything right away. It had been a while since he hadn’t voiced doubt on their plans. He’d questioned nearly everyone’s lately. Maybe he was being too rigid and worried… it didn’t suit very well.

“Ah well… maybe you’re right,” Arthur admitted lowly. “I’m just nervous. I don’t want us wasting anymore lives needlessly.”

They’d lost too many lately for no good reason. Both of the Callahan brothers, Jenny… Christ Jenny was just a girl and she’d gotten killed. John had nearly gotten killed, Bill and Sean nearly taken away. How many more would they lose?

“I ain’t costin’ lives here,” Micah said heatedly. Arthur was surprised Micah had even heard him; he hadn’t spoken up much. Arthur’s voice easily could’ve gotten drowned out. “I’m saving them.”

Arthur scoffed and instantly Micah glared back at him.

“Say that to Strawberry,” Arthur said.

“Didn’t have much of a choice then, did I Morgan?” Micah retaliated.

“Reckon we could’ve left, had a good escape already,” Arthur said. “I go and save your ass; you repay me by shooting up the town?”

“Don’t be so bitter, cowpoke,” Micah said. “We made it out alive, didn’t we? Gunshots make you nervous?”

It wasn’t them Arthur was thinking about. Plenty of townsfolk had died, innocent people trying to defend their town. Needless deaths. Micah didn’t see it that way, Arthur didn’t know if he even saw them as people or just targets. As bad as Arthur was, Micah was worse.

“Enough,” Dutch snapped. “Both of you, we are going to be peacemakers.”

“Of course, Dutch,” Micah agreed.

Arthur grumbled under his breath in discontent. He was growing weary of playing peacemaker alright. Seemed like his place in camp was turning into him keeping quiet and following along with whatever ridiculous plan they’d concocted for the day. He didn’t used to argue this much, he knew that. He’d gotten older and things had only gotten worse. He was starting to see clearly for the first time in ages, beginning to realize just what they were doing. His respect for Hosea had grown, he was starting to understand him more than Dutch.

Micah and Dutch continued to talk, discussing Pinkertons, and whatever else. Arthur decided not to listen, but instead looked around. He wouldn’t lie, he was keeping an eye out for Juliette and not O’Driscolls. Way he saw it, he didn’t need to worry about them yet. But if he did see Juliette, he might have a good idea of where to look once this was all over.

Probably not a good sign he was already thinking about leaving them. Shouldn’t enter a mission thinking of anything but it. Yet Arthur was ready for this one to be over.

Maybe John wasn’t wrong… maybe he would leave, eventually. He certainly wouldn’t do it the same as John, he’d at least make sure the camp was well off and out of this mess, warn some people he was leaving… of course if Juliette would have him around. Even if she wouldn’t, he might be able to prove he wanted to be better. Start acting right and maybe…

“Right, Arthur?” Dutch called.

Arthur looked over at him, startled.

“What was that?” Arthur asked.

“You paying attention?” Dutch asked. He sounded irritated at the thought Arthur’s full attention wouldn’t be on them.

“Sorry,” Arthur said. “Just worried about all this ‘s all.”

“Look, you ain’t even going to be the one in danger,” Micah exclaimed. “We’ll get on over there, find a nice perch for you to settle into.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur agreed.

There was no point arguing now, they had to be getting close. Dutch seemed satisfied with Arthur’s answer and nodded.

“Then me and Dutch walk right into the lion’s den, with you to cover us,” Micah said.

“Okay… just keep calm, would ya? Unless I give you a reason not to,” Arthur said. “I don’t want another shoot out if we can help it.”

“We’ll be fine,” Dutch said, waving Arthur off. “We’ve got you.”

Arthur didn’t like how much Dutch was depending on him. He’d certainly defend them with his own life, but he couldn’t fight off an entire army. They had no idea how many men Colm might have brought, if they started something they might just all be left for the vultures the next morning.

“I will do my best,” Arthur said tiredly.

He rubbed at his eyes. He really could’ve used more sleep before having to deal with all of this.

“Oh, my dear and trusted friend, with you watching over me, I would walk into hell itself,” Dutch said proudly.

Arthur stared at his back for a moment.

“That’s what worries me,” Arthur muttered.

“As would I,” Micah said, talking over Arthur.

Dutch must not have heard Arthur; he would’ve surely had a reply to that.

He didn’t understand how Dutch saw that as a good thing, something he should be proud of. They shouldn’t ever wander into hell; they were already in plenty of trouble. Arthur felt like they’d pissed off enough powerful people, they didn’t need the devil mad at them as well.

Arthur looked around to see men riding on a nearby ride. O’Driscolls.

“I don’t like them having eyes on us,” Arthur said.

Micah and Dutch both looked over, studying the O’Driscolls.

“We’re close, you’ll be the eyes soon enough,” Micah snapped.

Arthur didn’t find much comfort in that. He was starting to wonder if Dutch planned to cause hell, if he wanted this to be a shootout. Arthur certainly hoped he’d have more sense than that, but if Colm was standing right in front of him… Arthur wasn’t so sure Dutch wouldn’t try and shoot him.

He didn’t dare voice these worries, all too aware how it would sound. He’d already been called out plenty for seeming disloyal, he didn’t need Dutch worrying about him too. Arthur was loyal, Dutch knew it. He had to know Arthur would readily die for him, as he would for most of the gang. Micah he’d think twice about it.

They were closer to the Heartlands then than they were to Rhodes. The O’Driscolls might not have gone that far south yet, if they stayed south, they might have avoided the O’Driscolls altogether. Arthur wasn’t sure how smart it was to meet them in an open area, a rifle shot could come from anywhere.

“Maybe he’s right, Dutch,” Micah exclaimed dramatically. Arthur frowned up at him, already he didn’t like the sound of this. “Maybe I pushed too hard! Got us into situations that… could have been safer.”

“Maybe,” Arthur scoffed under his breath.

This earned him a look from Dutch. Arthur’s frown deepened as Dutch looked back at Micah. Was he seriously listening to this fool? This was his grand show, his big final act before he made it in Saint Denis.

“I just… I see all those mouths we got to feed and I…” Micah continued. He sighed loudly and exaggeratedly, as if this issue weighed down on him heavily. Burdened him each night.

“Could always hunt,” Arthur said.

Micah decided to ignore Arthur, he was performing for an audience of one, Dutch.

“I dream too big,” Micah said. “Caring too much, that’s my problem…”

“You gotta problem alright…” Arthur grumbled.

“Caring too much? There’s no such thing,” Dutch said.

Arthur studied Dutch. Was he buying this? Micah was a fool with a heart as black as oil. Arthur doubted he knew more than five names of the folks around camp. Gang life to Micah was all about what they could offer him, safety, a warm fire, food every night, and most importantly, money.

“This is horse shit, from both of you!” Arthur declared frustratedly.

“It might be! Micah might be full of shit. Colm O’Driscoll might be full of shit,” Dutch lamented. “The promise of this great nation, men created equal, liberty and justice for all… that might be nonsense too! But it is worth trying for. It’s worth believing in! Can’t you see that, friend?”

Arthur couldn’t help but wonder what Juliette would have to say to one of Dutch’s many speeches. His grand proclamations that was meant to shift their world, reaffirm they were treading a noble path. More and more Arthur were beginning to see these moments for what they were, Dutch liking the sound of his own voice.

Arthur sighed. Perhaps he had grown callous towards Dutch. He knew they were in a bad spot; Dutch was trying his best. They kept making the wrong choice, and Arthur couldn’t fully blame Dutch for it…

“I don’t know,” Arthur finally said. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Try,” Dutch said. “All I ask is you try, my son.”

Arthur let Dutch and Micah talk more, they liked the sound of each other’s voices more than his right then. His job was clear enough, keep quiet and keep them safe. He’d voiced his doubts and that was all he could do. Pushing it would only make things worse. He needed to trust in Dutch.

“Alright, cowpoke,” Micah said.

Arthur looked over at him. He was done arguing, he was tired and worn down. Still, just looking at Micah ignited a spark of anger in him. Arthur didn’t know exactly what it was about Micah that bothered him so deeply. It always had, since the moment he’d met the bastard.

“You’re gonna peel off up ahead,” Micah explained. “We’ll be meeting down on the plane. Find a spot above us where you can keep an eye on things.”

Arthur nodded. There was a rocky canyon hill he use to get a good look on the valley beneath. There was another nearby, potentially there could be someone over there. Arthur frowned at it, but he couldn’t see any signs of a horse or a glint of a scope.

Micah and Dutch both stopped and turned their horses to speak to Arthur before leaving.

“Alright,” Arthur agreed. “Alright. However this shakes out, let’s aim to meet back at the fork in the road afterwards.”

“We’ll be there, partner,” Micah confirmed.

They split up and Arthur started up the hill. He followed the hill towards the top until he could see the wide plane Micah had indicated. There were still plenty of hiding spots for another sniper, but Arthur reckoned they’d found the best one. He dismounted Whiskey and left him far enough behind he wouldn’t be spotted below. First thing he’d checked for was a horse on the other hill, Whiskey easily could give his position away.

Arthur pulled his rifle from the saddle and approached his own position. He kneeled and watched as Dutch and Micah moved into position. They both dismounted and walked away from the horses. Moments later a group of three riders drew closer, O’Driscolls. Dutch and Micah both kept a hand on their pistols. Arthur hadn’t noticed the riders first, only after he’d seen Dutch and Micah reach for their guns.

He was tired and he needed to focus. He took in a steadying breath before readying his rifle, peering through the scope down at the O’Driscolls. Three men he could handle on his own, but… why were there only three? Surely Colm didn’t trust them that much. Hell, Arthur didn’t trust Dutch that much.

Colm dismounted from his horse while the other two remained on theirs. He walked out towards Dutch slowly, his mouth moving as he spoke. Arthur couldn’t hear a word they were saying, even as he strained to try and catch anything. It didn’t matter much; his job was just to keep them safe.

The other two O’Driscolls dismounted their horses and Arthur trained his rifle on them for a moment. They merely walked out towards the others. Arthur focused back on Colm. If things went south, he was the one that they’d want dead first. Dutch might not ever forgive him if Arthur let Colm get away.

Colm walked closer towards Dutch and they spoke more… nothing seemed to be happening. Didn’t seem like a peace mission to Arthur, not by Colm’s smirk. Arthur frowned. What were they planning then?

The figures began to blur the longer Arthur looked at them.

Arthur moved the scope away and rubbed at his eyes. He shook his head. He was too tired for this certainly. Should’ve gotten another cup of coffee before committing to this, but… there hadn’t been all that much time.

He trained the rifle on Colm once more. He watched the exchange. It seemed like nothing was going to happen, but Arthur had a bad feeling they were missing something. Why would Colm agree to even meet with Dutch? It just didn’t make sense to him.

A twig snapped nearby, and Arthur started. He began to look back, just in time to see the but of a rifle. It slammed against his head, and for a split-second Arthur could feel a strike of pain. Then everything went black.

Next thing he knew, he felt like he’d been set on fire. He groaned, unable to even move without feeling pain ignite through him. His head was pulsing. He tried to open his eyes, but just the sky was blinding. People hovered above him, blurred figures leering down on him.

“Is he dead?” a voice asked eagerly.

“Nah, look- hello, sugar,” another said as they realized he was awake. His vision slowly cleared more. Three O’Driscolls stood over him, chuckling. “You ain’t dead, is you?”

He couldn’t quite think straight, his thoughts came in jumbled pieces. _Dutch. _Where was Dutch-

“Not yet anyway,” a voice cackled overhead.

A foot slammed into him and Arthur winced, the fire reigniting against his skin. Another foot kicked him hard, knocking him onto his side. He blacked out again.

He couldn’t tell how long he was out, but they’d certainly moved. Arthur blearily opened his eyes to see crushed dried grass immediately, then a tall looming tree. The figures from before sat around a fire, their backs to him.

His head pulsed and he forced his eyes closed again. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep himself quiet. He had to get of here, find Dutch. Dutch had to be worried about him, already looking, he just had to find him.

Arthur opened his eyes again, his breathing heavy and labored despite his best efforts. They must’ve thought him dead, the O’Driscolls weren’t even watching him. They were talking with each other. He heard something about Colm, something about handing Arthur to the law… trying to listen only made his headache worse, it threatened to split in half.

He turned himself onto his stomach and regretted it nearly instantly. Pain coursed through him, not a single part of him didn’t ignite then. He ignored it best he could and started to heave himself away, clawing at the ground to drag himself forward. Never in his life had he felt this heavy.

“Fuck the lot of them! They killed Seamus!” An O’Driscoll shouted.

Arthur froze for a moment, worried they’d found him out. Yet the voice continued loudly a moment later.

“With this feller, Colm’s right, we can draw them all back!”

Arthur continued forward, heaving heavily. He pushed himself to his feet, his legs threatening to give out under him, before stumbling forward. His vision blurred, but he kept moving. He just needed distance between him and them, that was it. Once he got far enough… the gang could find him.

“He’s escaping!” A voice shouted, ringing louder than a gunshot in Arthur’s ears. He scrambled forward; the world tilted under him. They didn’t need to shoot him, but they did.

He felt the bullet tear straight through him, knocking him to the ground. It had ripped through him, hot blood pooling against his skin, boiling.

“Did I kill ya?” A voice called.

He heard footsteps running towards him and Arthur grimaced. He tried to crawl away, making the injury even worse. It felt like he was ripping his own arm off then.

“Oh, not yet.”

The O’Driscoll sounded disappointed. Why didn’t they just kill him instead of toying with him? They sure didn’t seem to be trying hard to keep him alive.

He kicked Arthur roughly, knocking him onto his back. Arthur groaned, his vision already blurring.

“You will be soon,” the voice promised.

His vision cleared just enough to see the barrel of a shotgun pointed down at him. A loud shot rang, deafening Arthur. He could feel the shot gun shell tear through his shoulder, shards ripping through his skin and settling deep beneath it.

Distant cackles leered over him as his vision blurred and darkened.

The next few hours blended into one endless nightmare. He’d wake just enough to be conscious but had no strength to do more than watch. His hands were bound, tied tightly with rope that dug into his wrists. At one point he was on the back of a horse. He could feel every step pulse through him, reopening every wound. His skin was caked with blood, but he could still feel fresh warm blood pour across it.

Water gurgled beneath as they passed a stream, desperately Arthur wished he could move to it. Feel the cold water against his aching body, have it wash the blood away. Yet as the horse stepped out of it, there was nothing Arthur could do. He could hardly muster the energy to shift, and each time he did find any strength, it’d be knocked clean from him.

He went in and out of consciousness, unable quite to tell how long it had been. The sky darkened around him, but at points midday felt like night by how blurred his vision had been. Only way he could tell it was actually night was the lanterns. He saw one other rider but heard enough sounds there could easily be others.

They came to a stop eventually, but the world still moved for Arthur. Nauseatingly it continued to tilt and turn. He remained still, but he felt like he was being knocked over by waves. He closed his eyes, unable to stomach it any longer.

He could feel hands drag him off of the horse before he blacked out again. He’d had nightmares like this, just as choppy. He’d be in one nightmare, only for another to begin, then another. He’d wonder if he weren’t just asleep if the pain weren’t so real. It grounded him, making it clear this was his reality. It was happening and he couldn’t stop anything.

Where was Dutch.

Arthur couldn’t keep his thoughts straight enough to comprehend more than that blinding question.

_Where was Dutch. _

He was brought back to consciousness as he felt the floor against his skin, rocks digging into him. Someone was quite literally dragging him. Arthur groaned. They might as well just kill him at this point. He was battered, bruised, and bleeding. He couldn’t live long like this.

Arthur lost time, somehow the next thing he knew he was suspended by his bound wrists. There wasn’t anyone around him for the first time. He swallowed, his eyes sliding closed again. He heard voices and jolted. He opened his eyes and winced. He was starting to forget what clear vision looked like. 

It looked like he was in a cellar, but he couldn’t tell for certain. The features all blended together. Doors squealed open distantly and footsteps sounded.

Colm O’Driscoll walked down a set of stairs, holding a plate of food. Arthur stared at him in disgust, just the sight of him made everything worse. He’d been captured by goddamn O’Driscolls.

“Good to see you,” Colm said. He sounded far too pleased by the sight before him.

Arthur’s anger restored some of his energy, enough to muster out words.

“Hello, Colm,” Arthur grunted miserably.

“How’s the wound?” Colm asked.

He held a lantern up and Arthur forced his eyes closed, blinded by the light.

“I hardly feel it,” Arthur said through gritted teeth.

“You will,” Colm reassured. “You will.”

Arthur opened his eyes to watch as Colm ate, pacing in front of Arthur. Colm was close enough Arthur strangle him if he weren’t… near death. He might have the strength if his hands weren’t bound. He wanted to, wanted to kill him right then and there. There weren’t any other guards, if Arthur could just get his hands free-

“Now tell me,” Colm said, interrupting his thoughts. “A fine gun like you… why you still running around with old Dutch? Could come ride with me and make real money.”

Arthur laughed, it was raspy and painful, and sent him into a coughing fit after.

“It ain’t about the money,” Arthur managed. “Never was.”

“Oh, no,” Colm agreed. “It’s Dutch’s famous charisma!”

Colm kicked Arthur square in his ribcage, knocking him against the stonewall behind him. Arthur groaned, trying to stop the world from spinning wildly. His feet didn’t quite touch the ground, he couldn’t steady himself if he wanted to.

Colm said something, but Arthur couldn’t hear it. Colm was angered by this, as if Arthur was purposefully ignoring him. He weren’t a smart feller, Arthur already knew that.

“You killed a whole lot of my men,” Colm shouted. “Out by six point cabin!”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Arthur said.

Whatever strength he’d had before, abandoned him. Each word hurt to say and took to much energy from him.

He did know what Colm was talking about, it was the cabin Kieran had led them to. The one they’d cleared out completely. They’d killed at least twenty men. Arthur was surprised Colm even cared, Dutch always preached Colm didn’t care about a single death of his men. He probably didn’t, not really. Just mad they’d done it, taken from him.

“You’re lying to me!” Colm yelled.

His voice echoed angrily around, ricocheting back at Arthur. His head was pounding once more. Arthur grimaced and closed his eyes.

“And I thought Dutch preached truth,” Colm growled.

Arthur heard the sound of a revolver but didn’t bother to open his eyes. He couldn’t do anything right then if Colm did decide to shoot him.

“Let me go, Colm,” Arthur said. A trickle of desperation sounded in his tone and he hated it, more than he hated being tied up. “End all of this crap between you two. We all got real problems now.”

“They way I see it,” Colm said lowly. “They get him… they forget about me.”

Colm chuckled.

“They ain’t the forgetting sort,” Arthur scoffed. Pinkertons had proven that much to them already. They were going to track them down no matter where they hid. “If I were you… I’d run as soon as I had the money.”

Colm laughed harshly.

“Oh, I know you would,” Colm reassured, his voice taking on a sickly-sweet tone. “But see… we lure an angry Dutch in ta rescue ya… grab all of ya and turn ya in… then disappear. All of you are worth a fortune, I could become the richest man in America.”

Colm was a lot uglier up close. Arthur had forgotten that until he was inches away. He looked like a feller that had lost one too many fights, with stringy, greasy, hair the color bird shit.

“You only… met with him to grab me?” Arthur asked.

His vision blurred as his energy began to trickle away. He wasn’t sure how much longer he had in him. Colm’s plan might all be in vain if Arthur died before Dutch even got word.

“Of course,” Colm sneered. “He gonna be so mad! He gonna come raging over here! And the law’ll be waiting for him. Oh… Arthur… Arthur I missed you.”

Arthur opened his eyes long enough to see Colm take his revolver out again, holding it by the neck. He hit Arthur with the but of his revolver until finally Arthur blacked out again.

He continued to wake for brief amounts of time. A few times he saw an O’Driscoll checking on him, making sure he hadn’t managed his way to escape. Arthur couldn’t see how he could. He felt like he was barely clinging to life. He needed to save his strength to try and get out of here, before Dutch did come to save him.

Yet as time drew on Arthur couldn’t help but find himself wondering if he would. Colm seemed awfully sure Dutch would, but after how long it had been… surely Dutch would have come by now. Should’ve known something was wrong the moment Arthur vanished. How long had it been? Arthur couldn’t rightfully tell.

As time dragged on, Arthur’s hope began to dwindle. He’d die here if he didn’t get out on his own. If Dutch did come to rescue him, they’d all get caught finally.

Who would Dutch even rally to save him? Plenty were mad at Arthur, maybe enough so they were ready to leave him bleeding out. He realized he’d been the one saving people. John, Bill, Sean, all of them he’d had to take care of. Who would Dutch send? Would Dutch go himself? He had to know it’d be a trap, but they’d known the peace treaty was a trap as well.

Arthur doubted a lot of things lately, but he knew Dutch would save him if he could. Arthur just needed to find the strength to get out of here before that happened. He couldn’t be the reason the Pinkertons caught them.

_Blessed are the Peacemakers. _That’d been what Micah had said before this all started… Arthur felt far from blessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i really liked this mission in game. I thought it was cool and made a complete mood shift at least for me in game. Like I know its framed like "Dutch didn't know!" but he... should have. Someone should've noticed imo and Arthur wasn't mad about it but i sure was pissed. Sadie (love her) but she made a comment late game that arthur was lucky and i was so mad??? our boy had to drag himself literally out of hell. He legit just supermanned his way to safety. It's a game and it's cool feeling that strong/powerful but like... c'mon arthur was nearly dead he'd gotten shot three times? two times? no way he just killed five people and escaped on his own. 
> 
> but so i was thinking... why wouldn't they notice? and that's why last chapter changed. I wanted to give John a reason to be pissy at Arthur and Bill as well, the two most likely i'd argue to save him. Charles I think keeps busy enough that he wouldn't notice quickly, but Bill usually does missions with Arthur and I feel like john just should notice. So idk that was my reasoning for it! 
> 
> Hope everyone is doing well!! We're almost at 100 kudos which is insane to me?? thank you guys so much for reading and supporting my dumb lil fanfic it means a lot <3


	20. Blessed are the Merciful

Arthur was missing. Perhaps missing was a strong word, rather Juliette could not find him. She had been looking for longer than she would care to admit. The last she had seen him; she had stormed off frustrated. Not the best look, she knew it, and she regretted it. She was the one that had dragged an outlaw and bounty hunters together, expecting them to work alongside the each other.

It was foolish.

Regardless, she wanted to find Arthur. Apologize for putting him in such a situation… especially considering who had seen them. That one fellow- Marston, John Marston- he’d recognized Miguel. He had to know they were bounty hunters. Already Juliette did not like John. His list had grown since Valentine, she had passed him the road days before, and now she had seen him interact with Arthur.

Yet Juliette could not find Arthur to apologize to him. It had been nearly a week, each hour she could feel it, a dread settling in the pit of her stomach. Juliette could not explain it, the worry was sudden and overwhelming. The first day she had started looking, she had tried to reassure herself. Only one day, there was plenty of land she needed to search. Then one day bled into two, then three, four, until it kept going. All it had taken was two days of worry and Juliette’s thoughts were consumed by him. Where was he? Was he on a job? Bleeding out somewhere?

This was part of him being an outlaw she would never grow used to. Most days it was easier to overlook, she would worry, suppress it, then see him again. He’d smile and she would know everything was alright, he was okay. 

Irrational thoughts ebbed away at her, wearing down her resilience. Horrible thoughts kept creeping up, whispering, _what did they do to him? _Juliette tried to reason with them, _his gang would not do this. _But her doubts kept growing. The looks those men had given him, like he was a traitor… would they act rashly? Of course they would, they were outlaws! ...but… Arthur trusted them, surely…

Juliette shook her head with a frustrated sigh. Fleur’s ears flicked.

“_Where is he?” _Juliette murmured in French.

Fleur did not respond, but instead continued slowly down the dusty road. The roads around Valentine had been muddy, she had to clean Fleur often, but the roads here were dried and covered with dust. A brush would remove the red from Fleur’s pelt and return her to her dappled tawny pelt. The paths made it seem as if it had not rained in ages here… Juliette could not remember the last time it had rained. The forests were vibrant still, their leaves bright green, wide and arching towards the sky.

The grass was patchy around the path, dried, and crackled under foot. Perhaps it had been a while since it had rained.

Naturally Fleur came to a halt as they reached the top of a hill. Juliette made no movement to encourage Fleur forward. Instead, she let her gaze hunt the area around them. Distantly she could see a farm, the house peeking up against the horizon line, the fields splaying out far around it. To her left was a thin woods, with a few winding paths she had already been down. Ahead she could see a lake, the shore speckled with dark gray rocks. The sun glinted brightly off the lake, it was roughly a quarter past one.

“_Where would they…_” Juliette trailed off and let out a shuddering breath.

“Something wrong?”

Juliette glanced back to see Daniel and Miguel riding towards her. Juliette smiled weakly, before letting her gaze fall forward once more. She had seen them a few times since her last encounter with Arthur. Miguel had seemed apologetic, while Daniel kept quiet most of the time. Only grunting in agreement with Miguel when needed.

“Well… I do not know,” Juliette admitted.

“Señorita, I am learning to listen to you,” Miguel chuckled. “Seems you’re always right. First that damned woman, then the falcon…”

“I was lucky,” Juliette said.

“Observant,” Daniel returned. “We’ve gotten lazier if we’re not on a job.”

“Speak for- ah… maybe,” Miguel decided with a shrug.

They brought their horses to a stop beside her.

“Well?” Miguel asked.

“Something is wrong,” Juliette murmured.

Distantly a wagon rattled down a path, but it took the fork leading away from them. Juliette watched it for a moment, as if they were the perpetrators. She spotted the crates of plants in the back and finally looked away from it, searching for something else. A clue, anything that would lead her towards him.

“Gotta be more specific than that,” Daniel said. “Can’t help much with just somethin’.”

“You would help me?” Juliette questioned, glancing towards them again.

Miguel chuckled while Daniel smiled slightly.

“I feel like we owe you,” Miguel said. “Besides, you’re a friend.”

“This your way of apologizing for nearly getting us shot?” Juliette questioned. 

“If you forgive me after, sure,” Miguel said. “I had a talk with your outlaw… and maybe I have been pushing him too far.”

“Maybe?” Juliette repeated. “I seem to remember several moments when I was certain he would shoot you.”

“He probably deserved it,” Daniel admitted. “Morgan deserved it just as much.”

“If you tormenting him means you will not tie him up and drag him to jail… I am sure he can endure it,” Juliette said.

Juliette led Fleur into a walk and the bounty hunters followed suit.

“Never said what was wrong,” Daniel reminded.

“I do not know if anything is wrong,” Juliette reasoned. “I could be… worried over nothing.”

“Your outlaw then?” Miguel questioned.

Juliette nodded. It was silly to be this worried so soon, it truly had not been that long. Not long enough to worry this much. It was unreasonable.

“When did you last speak to him?” Juliette asked, unable to hide the concern in her tone.

“Hm… that night after that killer,” Daniel said.

She remembered them telling her they had secured the killer, but they had not mentioned Arthur. Hopefully their encounter had been more… cordial.

“Haven’t seen the bastard since,” Miguel confirmed.

“Neither have I,” Juliette admitted.

Juliette’s gaze hunted every new inch of land she could reasonably see, but as they continued the land grew flatter with less interruptions. There were not many trees, or anything taller than a boulder. A small rock wall ran to their left, leading to a decaying structure of an abandoned farmhouse.

“Think something bad happened?” Miguel asked.

“I do not know for certain,” Juliette murmured. “But… I have a strange feeling.”

“We’ll keep an eye out then,” Miguel reassured.

“Thank you,” Juliette said.

Daniel nodded. They made a plan to search for him, Daniel and Miguel would both split off from the path, while Juliette continued along it. They began to look immediately, scouring the land they could.

The sun could seem to decide how quickly it wanted to set. At moments, it would feel like it moved rapidly, only to come to a sudden halt. Juliette found it moved faster, when her heart raced, when she thought for a moment- just a moment that was him. Then the shadows would shift and reveal she was mistaken. Distant travelers were revealed to be strangers, figures shown to be withered trees. 

Miguel and Daniel would both check in intermediately, both having nothing to report each time. America had never felt bigger, never had she felt this incredibly small. There was three of them, it was impossible for them to check every corner for him, to chase after every figure that looked vaguely familiar.

The sun did not agree with them, taking away from their time. Too quickly, the light began to fade. Their time was running out for the day, they could not search in the dark, as desperately as Juliette wanted to. As the light progressively dimmed, they returned to her. They exchanged looks, fighting over who say it. Daniel seemed to lose, as he was the one to speak.

“Juliette… we ain’t findin’ anything,” Daniel said cautiously, as if she would yell at him. “Could always try again tomorrow… y’know he could be back in his camp, with the rest of his gang.”

“Perhaps,” Juliette agreed.

But… then why had she not seen him. Why had he not looked as she had? It was possible she was… seeing their relationship different, but Juliette could not quite understand why Arthur would be gone for so long. He had not been mad at her, but perhaps…

Juliette sighed, banishing the thought. Arthur would not just disappear without a word. He had admitted to her how long he had looked after Valentine… is this how that had felt? Juliette had not been hiding from him then, but she had not been looking either… was that…

Juliette frowned as her eyes settled on a distant outline of a creature. Her eyes narrowed in an attempt to see it clearly.

“Juliette, perhaps… we should leave it for now,” Miguel suggested. “If he is doing something… well doing outlaw shit, we shouldn’t be around for it. Could be another Valentine.”

Juliette was hardly listening to him then, her focus was on the creature. As they drew closer, Juliette realized it was off from the path, settled on a hill. Its long neck rose, its head shifting to look around, before it leaned down again. A horse, that was a horse. It was hard to make out distinct features both due to the distance and fading light, but it was not a wild horse. Those travelled in herds, and besides that, there was something on its back. A saddle, and… guns? She could not tell.

“Juliette?” Miguel tried again.

“Look there,” Juliette said.

She pointed towards the horse and they both looked over. They exchanged an uncertain look, both sharing the same thought. Juliette ignored it and guided Fleur towards the horse.

Slowly it came more into view, and Juliette could see the white sock markings on the horse’s legs, the dark tail. That was Whiskey. Whiskey had a common coat pattern, but Juliette knew it was him. She could not quite describe why, perhaps it was the way the horse kept looking up, or how he dug at the ground. Any little mannerism could have cued her in.

Whiskey recognized her and started to walk towards them.

“Hey there,” Juliette greeted.

Whiskey’s ear twitched and his pace quickened.

“Alright,” Miguel huffed. “Make that three now we were wrong.”

“I only got one eye,” Daniel reasoned. “What’s your excuse?”

Miguel chuckled.

“I do not have one, I am not even drunk,” Miguel said.

Juliette dismounted Fleur as Whiskey drew closer and held her hand out towards Whiskey. Whiskey pushed his nose into her hand, his eyes sliding closed. Juliette smiled and patted him gently, before moving to check if he was injured. Juliette could not find an injury, when he had walked he seemed unburdened.

“That’s his horse then?” Daniel asked.

“Yes,” Juliette confirmed. “He seems alright…”

Surely if Arthur was in a shootout, Whiskey would have been shot… then again, Whiskey had escaped Valentine without injury.

“Then where’s Arthur?” Miguel questioned.

Juliette stared at Whiskey.

“Where is Arthur?” Juliette asked quietly.

Whiskey gave her no clues, but as Juliette looked up her gaze settled on the hill he had retreated from. He was a loyal horse, as much as Arthur complained about him. He would not leave Arthur far behind. Juliette started back towards Fleur and Whiskey followed. Juliette studied him for a moment, before setting a hand against his saddle. She hesitated a moment before pulling herself up. She patted Whiskey’s neck gently, before looking back to Fleur.

“_Follow, my dear,_” Juliette said gently.

Whiskey reacted instantaneously to Juliette’s motion for him to move. He started back towards the hill. Juliette glanced back once to make sure Fleur was following, before letting her gaze fall forward once more.

“_Do you know what happened?_” Juliette asked Whiskey in French.

Whiskey’s ear twitched.

A trail of smoke snaked through the sky past the hill.

“Careful,” Daniel warned. “Let’s dismount here. Three riders will look awfully suspicious if Morgan’s in trouble.”

Juliette nodded and brought Whiskey to a halt. She dismounted him carefully, the stirrup attached to the saddle reached further down than she was used to. Arthur was quite tall, taller than her certainly.

“Left a lot of good guns behind if he did get in a shootout,” Miguel commented.

Juliette followed his gaze to the different weapons strapped to the saddle.

“Yes,” Juliette agreed.

“Any missing?” Daniel asked.

“I do not know how many guns he owns,” Juliette said in disbelief. “They all look the same.”

Miguel and Daniel exchanged a look, clearly both thought she was wrong.

“Well… in any case, we need to get a look at what we’re walking into,” Daniel said.

Juliette nodded and noticed both Miguel and Daniel had retrieved rifles. They must’ve noticed Juliette’s look as Miguel explained, “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

They were right and she hated it.

“Don’t do anything crazy,” Daniel said.

Juliette couldn’t tell if he was talking to her or Miguel. She elected to ignore him and started up the hill. Daniel sighed heavily and Juliette realized he had in fact been talking to her. Juliette leaned down as she approached the top of the hill, well aware how bad a figure watching could look. There was a small homestead nearby. Juliette squinted and could make out a few figures moving outside of the house, brandishing rifles.

“Well fuck,” Daniel breathed.

Miguel shook his head.

“Never get a break, do we?” Miguel said with a short chuckle. “How many you see?”

Juliette glanced over to see Daniel had a scoped rifle. She looked back down.

“About seven,” Daniel said lowly. “O’Driscolls, by the look of ‘em.”

“Hm… that would make sense,” Miguel agreed.

“Would they… take Arthur?” Juliette asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Daniel said bluntly. “Looks like a feller is guarding something on the side of the house, maybe a cellar or somethin’… you sure he’s worth all of this?”

“Yes,” Juliette said instantly. “If you want to leave-“

“We ain’t gonna let you kill yourself over him,” Miguel said. “Not this way, at least.”

Juliette nodded gratefully.

“Thank you,” Juliette said.

She was surprised at how kind they had been to her. She had nothing to offer them, yet they were willing to risk their lives for Arthur? Juliette was uncertain she ever had someone look out for her as they did. Edmond and Marie both tried, but... they never quite understood.

“Don’t mention it,” Miguel sighed. “Besides this will make us even.”

“Even?” Juliette questioned.

“Well…” Miguel ran a hand through his hair, causing a few strands to fall in his face. “We did get you shot.”

“That was my choice,” Juliette reasoned. “You offered me an opportunity and I took it.”

“Shouldn’t have gotten shot over it,” Daniel grumbled. “We’re always preachin’ about keeping folk safe… then we go and get you hurt. You ain’t exactly a bounty hunter.”

“I would do it again,” Juliette said.

They both stared at her, Daniel moved the scope from his eye.

“You’re crazy then,” Miguel chuckled. “That is why we are friends.”

They spent a few minutes trying to devise a plan. It seemed the men were only diligently patrolling two sides, the front of the house, and the side the cellar was. Occasionally a patrol would wander completely around the house, but it was rare.

There was no proof besides Whiskey it was Arthur, but they all found that as enough evidence. Miguel and Daniel explained that the O’Driscolls had a deep rivalry with Arthur’s gang, that if there was anyone they’d guard heavily, it’d be Arthur. Juliette had always suspected how deeply integrated Arthur was in his gang, but it worried her that he was a large enough target to warrant this many guards. Had this happened to him before? Juliette did not want to think about it.

“Sure you want to be involved?” Miguel asked. “Can always wait up here, I won’t take it personally.”

“No,” Juliette said with a small shake of her head. “I will not sit idly by while you both are in harm’s way.”

They exchanged a look and Daniel shrugged.

“Hell, if you want to get shot at,” Daniel said. “Won’t argue.”

“I am a decent shot now,” Juliette reasoned.

“Hmm… decent is a strong word,” Miguel said.

Juliette frowned. Last time they had taken shots at bottles, she had gotten a few. Sure, it was not as impressive as Miguel’s, but she had gotten a few. That had to count for something.

“I am just saying,” Miguel chuckled. “You did shoot a man’s foot.”

“I- well it worked,” Juliette protested.

“That it did,” Daniel agreed. “Aim higher than the foot down there, Juliette.”

“I will certainly try,” Juliette said.

She understood the concern about her aim, she was far from great. Juliette had only gotten a gun in Valentine; she did not have too much time to practice her aim. There had been a few afternoons she had dedicated towards it, but the last time she had met with Miguel had been a while back. At least two weeks, that was how long it had been since she had used a gun.

“Just stay back and let us handle it,” Miguel argued. “If things go bad-“

“You will want an extra gun,” Juliette said. “We are wasting time Miguel; my mind is made up. Are you going with me or not?”

Daniel and Miguel exchanged a look. Finally, Miguel sighed.

“Alright, alright, señorita,” Miguel said with a shake of his head. “Daniel, if I die-“ 

“Knock it off,” Daniel scoffed. “I ain’t letting you die.”

Miguel smiled, seemingly satisfied. Juliette wondered if that had been the answer Miguel wanted, if he had only asked to hear it.

Juliette checked the ammunition on her own pistol, before her and Miguel started down the hill. They headed for the back of the house, the one that seemed to attract the least amount of attention. Daniel remained behind, using his scope to keep an eye out.

The evening light had faded fast, giving them plenty of cover to make it down to the house. Miguel and Daniel both seemed confident they could handle seven men and Juliette just had to trust them.

As they reached the house, Miguel led the way to the far end. He leaned against it, readying his rifle. Juliette glanced up towards where Daniel was, but saw no indication of him.

“No going back after this,” Miguel said.

Juliette looked back to see he had lined up a shot. He was tracking someone, but Juliette could not see his target.

“I know.”

Loud shots rang simultaneously. Shouts sounded, followed by footsteps. Juliette’s heart hammered rapidly. Miguel fired again. Gunshots filled the air. Miguel ducked back into cover. A bullet tore through the edge of the house’s siding, exactly where Miguel’s head had been seconds before. Miguel smirked, undaunted by this fact.

“Four left,” Miguel said as if that should reassure her.

Juliette heard movement opposite them and looked to see a man at the edge of the house. She lined her pistol and pulled the trigger without a second thought. The bullet slammed through his chest and he stumbled, reaching for his rifle. Before he could aim, another bullet plunged through his forehead. Juliette glanced up at Miguel, his rifle still aimed on the man.

“Three,” Miguel corrected.

She would not lie, that was very impressive. Not as impressive as Arthur, but it was close. She still did not know how Arthur had been able to defend them from the wolves so easily.

Everything went quiet for a moment and Miguel frowned. He peeked out from the side of the house but seemed to find no one to shoot.

“Bastards must be hiding,” Miguel scoffed. “They’ve snuffed out the campfire…”

“Is that bad?” Juliette asked.

“Well, won’t be easy for Danny to get a shot anymore,” Miguel said with a frown.

Juliette waited for him to evaluate their situation.

“Wait here,” Miguel said. “I’ll find the rest.”

Juliette did not protest, but simply nodded. Miguel checked the corner, before moving out. He kept low to the ground, moving out of Juliette’s sight. Juliette replaced him at the edge of the house and peeked out to watch.

Miguel found cover behind a crate, but still did not seem satisfied. He continued to advance towards the front of the house. As he got closer, gunshots rang out. Juliette sighed in frustration. She wished she could do more; they were trying to save Arthur after all. Neither Miguel nor Daniel had any reason to save him other than she asked. 

A gun cocked behind her.

Juliette froze, her grip on her pistol tightening.

“Don’t move,” a voice said harshly.

Juliette’s thoughts ran rampant. She was not a good enough shot to shoot and survive. She needed a better plan than that, but she had none. 

“Ain’t exactly the-“

Juliette felt a rush of wind cascade past, before hearing a squelching sound of the bullet sinking deep into flesh. She turned in time to see the man collapse. He was still moving, Juliette could not see where the bullet had hit him. She moved forward, holding her pistol. The man shot up at her, but his bullets slammed into the house instead. She aimed her pistol down and pulled the trigger.

Blood oozed out from his forehead, covering his pale skin in the dark liquid. Juliette turned to look back where Daniel was. He had saved her life.

Two left.

There was still gunfire being exchanged, it sounded like it was from the front of the house. Juliette moved to the opposite side of the house, hoping she could catch them off guard. She would be without the safety of Daniel’s watch, but with only two left Juliette was less afraid.

She spotted the cellar as she reached the edge and stopped for a moment. She stared at it, before shaking her head. First, they had to clear the camp. Juliette continued along the side of the house, keeping close to the wall. As she reached the edge, she peeked out to survey the front. The campfire had been extinguished, making it harder to see. The gunshots were louder, she could see small sparks as guns were shot. There were lanterns along the porch that were still lit, offering more light. There was a porch, and a man hiding in the doorway to the house.

Juliette did not see Miguel, at least not until he ducked from behind an old wagon to shoot at the other O’Driscoll hidden behind a pile of crates. The O’Driscoll in the doorway aimed for Miguel and instantly Juliette lifted her own pistol. Gunshots rang out loudly, it was impossible to tell where they were coming from. She knew a few belonged to hers, they were the loudest, but the rest jumbled together. She was surprised no one else had heard the shots, no one had investigated. Then again, investigating a shootout in the dead of night was a suicide mission. Deputies were better off to wait till the morning and see who died.

The O’Driscoll she had shot slumped against the doorframe, gripping onto his chest tightly. Blood glistened across his hands, sliding in between his fingers. He looked for her, but Juliette ducked back into safety. Shots fired near her, at her. She waited until they quieted before peering out again. Instantly, more shots. She moved back but didn’t make to safety in time. A bullet grazed against her arm, stinging painfully.

She was getting all too used to this pain. Already, she knew it was incredibly minor. The least of any injury she had received in America. After having to get a bullet retrieved from her wound, she knew how bad it could be. A bullet taking skin was fine, as long as it did not plunge into her.

Juliette steadied her breathing and listened as more gunfire was exchanged. No longer were bullets aimed towards her. Did they forget about her? Did they think that bullet killed her? Whatever was the case, she no longer was under fire. Miguel was.

Carefully Juliette peered out of cover, setting her sights on the man hiding behind crates. His back was too her, exposed. Juliette aimed for him, having to squint in the dim lighting. He was near the extinguished fire pit, if they hadn’t extinguished it aiming would be a lot easier…

Juliette steadied her hand; it was shaking slightly. She ignored the gunshots around her, lining up her own shot. She pulled the trigger and watched as the man crumbled, the bullet finding its home in the man’s head.

That had to be the most accurate shot she had ever had. There had been moments when shooting bottles, she had shattered them, but it never hit where she anticipated. Always lower or higher. She was uncertain if she should feel proud or remorseful, she felt a strange mix of both that left her feeling nauseous.

One left.

Shots sounded around her, and Juliette leaned back against the wall, listening as her heart raced. A few bullets were heading her way, but the man changed his focus to Miguel moments later. Juliette glanced out of cover in time to watch as a bullet tore through the O’Driscoll, knocking him to the ground. He didn’t get up.

Miguel walked out from his cover towards the man. He stepped up onto the porch, the steps squealing under him. It was incredibly quiet without the sounds of gunfire. Miguel set a heavy foot on the man’s chest and Juliette could see blood pool out from the contact. He aimed his rifle at the man’s head and pulled the trigger.

A final gunshot echoed throughout the night air, before silence settled again.

Juliette looked up at him. The lantern light shone across him, illuminating his face in a faint amber light. His eyes seemed dark then, no longer a warm brown, instead they looked nearly black. He lifted his foot from the man’s chest and looked back up at the hill. Juliette followed his gaze, wondering if he could see Daniel.

“That is the last one,” Juliette said. 

Her voice surprised her. It didn’t sound like hers, but she had said it. Miguel looked back at her with a slight frown.

“Thought you were gonna wait?” Miguel asked.

“You took too long,” Juliette said. “I thought you needed a hand.”

“Ahh… maybe,” Miguel admitted with a shake of his head. “Last time we shot more than two people was back in… some abandoned fort. Been a minute.”

Juliette nodded. She turned and headed back towards the cellar. She could hear Miguel’s footsteps as the steps squealed once more. He reached her as she waited outside of the cellar.

“Were you shot?” Juliette asked as she studied the padlock.

Juliette hoped they would not have to search for a key… would shooting the lock open it?

“Slightly,” Miguel admitted.

“Slightly?” Juliette asked with a frown. “How can you be slightly shot?”

“It’s barely a gunshot, could’ve gotten scratched,” Miguel scoffed. “Stand back.”

Juliette took a step back and slid her pistol into its holster. Miguel shot the padlock and it fell to the ground. Shooting it was the answer. It seemed shooting was a more common answer than she would like.

They each grabbed one of the doors and heaved it open. They were heavy, it took a great deal of effort. How annoying would this be if someone did live here.

Juliette stepped down onto the first step, trying to see through the dimness of the cellar. There was a faint light, somewhere, there had to be a lantern. Stone steps led down and Juliette followed them.

“There could be people-“ Miguel protested.

“They would not have locked themselves in,” Juliette said pointedly.

“Hmm… perhaps,” Miguel agreed.

Juliette stepped down carefully, letting her eyes adjust. Her heart dropped. She could see a shadowed figure in the cellar, seemingly suspended from the ceiling. She knew immediately it was him, even in the dimly lit room.

As she stepped down onto the cobbled floor, she could see Arthur properly. His blue shirt was stained with crimson blood, so much blood. His skin was a patchwork of bruises, cuts, and dried blood. He was breathing, shallowly, but he was alive. Juliette walked over towards him quickly but hesitated as she reached him.

“Jesus,” Miguel said. “Looks like they wanted him dead.”

“I do not want to think about that,” Juliette said. “Come over and help me.”

Miguel obeyed. He was not quite tall enough to cut the ropes either, but found a wooden chair thrown in a corner. He stood on top of it and pulled his hunting knife.

He did not move.

“Miguel-“

“No offense, but I think he would crush you,” Miguel scoffed. “Wait for Daniel.”

Juliette stared at him a moment, unable to argue. She was not particularly strong, there was a strong possibility Arthur would simply collapse or hit the floor, making everything worse.

“I thought we had a plan,” Daniel grumbled from the top of the cellar. “You’re just as bad as him, y’know? Could’ve gotten killed.”

“Good you are here,” Juliette said as he stepped down.

He blinked a few times, before looking over at them. He studied Arthur, but his expression didn’t change.

“Did you listen to a word I said?” Daniel asked.

“Come over here,” Juliette said.

Daniel rolled his eye and walked over.

“He’s not even awake and you’re ignoring us,” Daniel said. “Lost your goddamn mind.”

“We made it out fine,” Juliette huffed.

“Both y’all bleedin’. Feel like we coulda avoided at least one,” Daniel said.

Daniel leaned down and cut the rope binding Arthur’s ankles. Juliette was beginning to worry that Arthur had not stirred once. They were not quiet.

“He’ll be just fine,” Daniel said as if he could sense her concern. “Damn idiot. Don’t know how he got himself captured like this. Ain’t easy gettin’ a Van der Linde boy.”

“Heard rumors of them trying to make peace with the O’Driscolls,” Miguel said.

“Fucking idiots, all of them then,” Daniel said.

“He can barely breathe,” Juliette said in disbelief.

“Cause he’s stupid,” Daniel said.

“Daniel-“ Juliette said sharply.

Miguel began to cut the rope and Daniel stood ready, frowning deeply.

“He isn’t wrong,” Miguel said. “Van der Linde killed the bastard’s brother; no way peace is an option between any of ‘em. Stupid to even consider it.”

“We do not know what happened,” Juliette reasoned.

“This situation paints a nasty picture,” Daniel said. “Only one way they caught him alive and kept him that way.”

She knew he was right. Arthur was not a man she could see being easily captured. It must have been a trap of some kind, caught him off guard. Took advantage of a moment of weakness.

As Miguel cut the rope, Daniel moved to keep Arthur from falling. Arthur’s eyes flickered open for a moment; the sudden jolt must have woken him.

“Arthur?” Juliette questioned.

His eyes opened a sliver and settled on her briefly before closing again.

“Where’s his gang in all this?” Daniel grunted. “Feel like we got the short end of the stick here. Don’t get to auction off Morgan’s dead body, nor any of these damned O’Driscolls.”

“Eh, could be worse,” Miguel said as he hopped down.

He twirled his knife before putting it away.

“Speak for yourself,” Daniel snapped. “You ain’t carrying a mass murderer.”

Juliette walked towards Arthur, only half listening to Daniel and Miguel. She took Arthur’s arm and moved it around her shoulders, while she put a hand around him firmly.

“I am grateful for that,” Miguel said. “Blood does not come out easy. Morgan’s ruined that jacket of yours.”

“Shut,” Daniel returned. “Not like it wasn’t already.”

They started back out of the cellar, Miguel leading with his rifle ready. Juliette did expect to encounter anymore enemies, but she had been wrong before.

Arthur was heavy to move, but manageable with Daniel’s help. Miguel was right, waiting for Daniel was the intelligent move. She was not quite thinking straight with everything that had happened, the only coherent thought she had was getting Arthur away from here. Somewhere safe and far.

They brought him up to the porch and set him down. He winced, moving him had to have been painful. If Juliette thought he could handle a ride, they would have simply left, but… she was worried he would bleed out.

The horses had wandered closer, Daniel had brought them with him. Juliette approached Fleur, rummaging through her saddlebags for any supplies. Daniel disappeared inside the small house, undoubtedly looting it for all it was worth. Miguel went corpse to corpse checking them for anything useful. Juliette elected to ignore how vulture like their behavior was. She was sure this was a common habit that she was unaware of.

Juliette returned to Arthur with what supplies she could scrounge up. She took a lantern from its post and moved it closer to survey his wounds. As it turned out, the book he had given her was more useful than either had thought. She never expected he would need saving; it was hard to imagine when he seemed so strong.

He was heavily bruised and bleeding in multiple places. There was a large gunshot wound to his shoulder.

“Looks like a shotgun,” Miguel commented.

Juliette looked up to see him lingering over them.

“Close range too,” Miguel said. “Must’ve hurt a hell of a lot.”

“Sure did,” Arthur grumbled.

Juliette stared at Arthur in surprise. His eyes were still closed, but his breathing had grown stronger, less labored. Juliette smiled weakly.

“We are here now,” Juliette reassured.

“Real question, where the fuck is his gang?” Miguel scoffed.

He leaned against one of the support beams to the porch. They had all asked that question once that night. Where was his gang? Was this not one of the perks of being in one, they would save you? Protect you? It seemed like they had left Arthur for dead…

“Who knows,” Juliette murmured. “Perhaps they have not gotten word…”

“Should’ve noticed Morgan was missing, right?” Miguel reasoned. “Ain’t like he’s a new recruit.”

Juliette sighed. She could not linger on this question, she needed to focus on Arthur. She found a second gunshot wound further down, but after investigating the wound she found the bullet had gone straight through. At least she would not have to retrieve it…

There was a cut beneath his ribs, nearly three inches long. The blood along the edges was caked against his skin, with fresh blood beginning to ooze around it. Moving him had reopened his wounds, but they had no choice. Leaving him the cellar was not an option… still, Juliette felt guilty.

“Found some supplies in the house,” Daniel said.

Juliette looked over as he set down some more bandages, clean rags, and disinfectant.

“Thanks,” Juliette murmured.

Daniel nodded and disappeared again.

Juliette cleaned the wounds slowly, mulling over a plan. She knew how to take care of the cut and the smaller gunshot wound, but his shoulder? Juliette had no idea.

“Quite the outlaw you’ve picked,” Miguel said.

“If you are not going to be useful, go away,” Juliette said.

Miguel chuckled.

“Sorry, señorita,” Miguel said. “What are you going to do about that nasty one?”

“I… do you have a suggestion?” Juliette asked.

She bandaged the gunshot wound slowly, her gaze settling back on the cut. That would need to be stitched together, a painful process certainly.

“Hmm… perhaps,” Miguel said. “I’ll be back.”

Juliette nodded and Miguel walked off the porch.

“Well… you are alive,” Juliette said gently to Arthur.

“I’m alright,” Arthur murmured, his voice quieter than a whisper.

She had never heard his voice so faint, it scared her. Tears welled in her eyes. Arthur’s eyes slid open, just enough to see a sliver of the whites of his eyes.

“This is not alright, Arthur,” Juliette said gently.

“You’re here,” Arthur reasoned. “Makes it alright.”

“I do not know about that,” Juliette said.

She stared down at him in dismay, her heart painfully heavy. Juliette wondered how often he’d been like this, on the verge of death. She hoped he had not been through this before, but… somehow, she was certain he had.

“Jules,” Arthur said.

“I am here,” Juliette reassured.

She set a hand on his gently. She felt his hand move under hers to hold hers weakly. Juliette gently wiped away the blood across his cheek. How long had he been here?

His eyes closed again and after a moment, his hand went limp. He was still breathing, just unconscious. Juliette swallowed and gathered her courage. Her hand shook slightly as she tried to thread the needle.

She was far from the best person to stich to him back together, but she was the only one around. She would have to do. Carefully Juliette began to stitch the wound as delicately as she could. This was something she had read over in the book he had given her; she understood the basics. She knew the gash was deep enough it could not simply be bandaged; it would never heal properly like that. Still each time Arthur groaned or winced, Juliette felt a strike of guilt. Doubt creeped through her.

Juliette was grateful when it was over. It did not look pretty, but it should do the job. Juliette carefully cleaned the edges of the wound once more, before bandaging the wound. Now all that was left was his shoulder. Juliette glanced around for Miguel and sighed. She cleaned away the dried blood gently, barely touching his skin. Once she had done the best she could, Juliette buttoned his shirt halfway, leaving the shoulder still exposed.

“Arthur,” Juliette whispered. “What happened?”

His eyes opened at his name, his gaze settling on her. A smile ghosted his lips. How could he smile? He was steps from the grave, yet his eyes were not sad.

“Glad you’re here,” Arthur murmured.

“I wish I was here sooner,” Juliette said.

“Nah,” Arthur said. “Right on time.”

Arthur reached up towards her and Juliette leaned forward. His hand rested against her cheek as he wiped away a tear. Juliette smiled, her hand moving to his.

“Do not die on me,” Juliette whispered.

“I don’t plan on it,” Arthur said.

“Good,” Juliette said.

His eyes fell closed once more. Juliette moved his hand, still holding it in hers. She heard footsteps and looked back to see Miguel finally returning. He was holding a strange array of supplies.

“What are you going to do with a match?” Juliette asked uneasily.

“Trust me,” Miguel chuckled. “I’ve done it before. Not pretty, but it works.”

“Christ,” Arthur groaned.

“Hey, he’s alive,” Miguel said. “Good.”

“What are you going to do?” Juliette asked.

Miguel kneeled down beside her, glancing over Arthur’s wound.

“Save his life, again,” Miguel explained.

Daniel wandered out of the house, curious to what was going on. He surveyed Miguel, the wound, then the supplies.

“Hm,” Daniel said.

“What?” Juliette asked.

“It’ll hurt, but it should work,” Daniel said.

Miguel pried off the end of a bullet and realized what he was doing. Arthur had explained this once before to her. Juliette swallowed. This would certainly hurt. Miguel dusted the gunpowder over the wound, before holding a rag out to Juliette. She accepted it uncertainly.

“Press that on it after, only need a second for it to work,” Miguel explained.

Juliette nodded.

Miguel lit the match and set it against the gunpowder. Arthur swore instantly and Miguel flicked the match away. Juliette pressed the rag against the wound and Arthur settled again.

“Can you move him?” Daniel asked.

“I do not think we have a choice,” Juliette admitted. “They will be back, eventually. He was kept alive for a reason.”

“Probably,” Daniel agreed. “Found his shit inside. I’ll put it with his horse.”

“Thank you,” Juliette said.

Daniel walked down towards the horses, while Juliette turned her attention back to Arthur. She moved the rag away to study the wound again. It looked horrible, but it was no longer bleeding… that had to be a good sign.

Juliette bandaged it carefully, not wanting to cause him anymore pain. She was fairly certain little she could do would be worse than what Miguel did. He had been helping, but it did not seem pleasant.

It took them time to get ready to leave. Juliette checked on Whiskey and Fleur. She searched Whiskey one more time for injury, before retrieving Arthur’s lasso and attaching Whiskey to Fleur. She was certain Whiskey would follow wherever Arthur went, but she still did not want to risk it.

Arthur stirred some as they moved him. He grunted some, but mostly kept quiet. Miguel and Daniel helped get Arthur onto Fleur, Juliette had brought Fleur closer to hopefully make it gentler on Arthur. He managed it alright, and Juliette felt more assured he would not fall off.

“Got a plan where to go?” Daniel asked.

“No,” Juliette admitted. “Any ideas?”

“Somewhere far from here,” Daniel suggested. “Preferably without O’Driscolls nearby.”

“Thank you for that advice,” Juliette said. “Thank you both for saving him.”

“Eh, just get the bastard somewhere safe,” Miguel said. “Remind him we saved him; sure he’ll like that.”

Juliette smiled slightly and nodded. Being saved by Miguel and Daniel certainly would not be a high point in Arthur’s life, but they had saved him. They could have easily left Juliette on her own, but they had helped her.

They split up from there, Miguel and Daniel deciding to search the camp one more time while Juliette left. She was unsure where they were heading, only certain they needed to get farther away, as far as Arthur could bear riding.

As they traveled, Juliette was careful to veer off the road anytime she spotted someone. Running into people was rare, it was late, only a few other travelers wandered the roads. Juliette checked on Whiskey every now and then. He followed closely, seemingly content. They stayed on the path until the moon barely peeked over a distant forest. 

A stream ran through the forest and Juliette followed it. Eventually Juliette found a decent spot to hide out. It was far enough from the road no travelers should stumble upon them. It would be safe for the time being, once Arthur healed more, they could potentially find somewhere better.

Juliette set up a camp quickly, focusing on getting the cot ready. She helped Arthur to it, praying he would survive the night. They had done everything they could, but… how long had he been there? They could be too late. At the very least… he was safe for now. Far from that place. This was a better fate than dying in a cellar, Juliette knew that. She hoped her worries were unwarranted, that he would recover fine. It was hard to imagine after seeing him so battered and bruised.

Arthur had to be alright. Juliette did not know what she would do otherwise. Arthur shifted and grimaced. She brushed the hair matted by sweat off of his forehead.

“You are safe now,” Juliette reassured quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two blessed chapters back to back? I'm allowed the chapter name as a treat. Idk I just really like how it sounds. This will probably be the last one i can use it with sadly. 
> 
> i 100% don't know how to write gunfights and I hope that isn't too obvious :") i've def gotten better, the first rough draft of this (from a while ago) was very rough in the action section. i'm learning slowly 
> 
> i'm glad you guys agreed about the whole gang leaving arthur to die being stupid bc man it really pissed me off when i played the game. It's been over a year and i still feel the salt. But it's fine. It's fine. I will have my characters save him bc he deserves it dammit. 
> 
> anyway! hope you guys liked it! <3


	21. Finding Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took a minute, but finals are over now! I have plenty of time now to work on projects c:  
I hope you're all staying safe and healthy!

Healing was a slow process, Juliette understood that. She did not expect Arthur to be on his feet quickly, after all he had come back from the brink of death. He had gotten some of his strength back, on the third day he was able to sit up. Something he thought meant he could walk easily but was quickly proven wrong. He made it half a step before Juliette had to help him back.

Arthur seemed frustrated rather than worried. He would try and move, reopening wounds and stitches. He was eager to be moving again, kept insisting he wanted to help. He was able to remain conscious for longer periods as the days slipped by. Enough so he was starting to become restless, unused to remaining still for so long. That was something they had in common.

It had been a long time since Juliette had remained in the same area for several days. The last time had been when she was injured, unable to move locations easily. Of course, Arthur had been around to help her and now she could return the favor.

The forest had been generous, with a stream close, and easy prey. She had no incentive to try and leave. She had considered it at first, worried people would be hunting for Arthur, but Miguel reassured her the O’Driscolls thought he was dead. She had encountered the pair a few days after they had saved Arthur, while she was hunting. They stopped by a few more times after, bringing by supplies.

Juliette tried to keep busy, trying not to worry. It was a hard task, but she found plenty to do. Two horses to tend to took plenty of time, keeping their small camp, and of course taking care of Arthur. Ironically, the better he got the more attention she had to devote on checking on him. He kept trying to help, but in the process, he only made his own wounds worse. Juliette was beginning to question if he had ever remained still in his life. 

That morning was much the same as the previous. She had fallen into a regular routine. She ended up resting by the fire for a moment, taking a drink of coffee.

Birds chirped gently overhead and distantly she could hear the stream gurgling. This truly was a beautiful place, sunlight filtered through the leaves above bathing the clearing in a soft golden light. If she wasn’t worried about Arthur dying, she might enjoy being here.

The horses lingered nearby, grazing. Juliette studied Whiskey.

“_How much trouble does he find?_” Juliette asked him quietly in French.

Whiskey flicked an ear in her direction, acknowledging she had spoken. Juliette smiled slightly and took a drink from her coffee. It was bitter, of course, with a strange metallic taste from the mug. Juliette still had not grown used to that. She had moved past the food not being as palatable, but drinks surprised her. Even the alcohol was worse.

Juliette heard movement in the tent and instantly rose to her feet, walking back to check on Arthur. As she had suspected, he had gotten to his feet.

“Again?” Juliette questioned.

“Sorry,” Arthur mumbled. “I ain’t fond of…”

“Healing?” Juliette asked.

She moved to his side, putting an arm around him to help steady him.

“You could say that,” Arthur chuckled.

Juliette smiled.

It took a moment of persuasion, but Juliette ended up agreeing that it would be good for him to at least be in the sunlight. She knew he would want to do more after being outside, but he was right. He had healed enough that his wounds didn’t reopen at the slightest movement. Juliette still felt uneasy, and even as he settled by the fire.

“Do you feel alright?” Juliette asked.

Arthur nodded and said, “I feel fine, Jules. No need to worry about me.”

Regardless, Juliette looked him over for any blood peeking through his shirt.

“Don’t trust me?” Arthur asked with a slight smile.

Juliette shook her head and murmured, “I believe you have a high tolerance for pain. Excellent for gun fights, not for healing.”

“Ah maybe,” Arthur agreed.

Juliette took another mug and filled it with coffee. She offered it to Arthur, and he accepted it. Juliette was all too aware of the slight shake of his hand.

“I am afraid there was no saving your shirt,” Juliette said.

“A fair trade, I reckon,” Arthur said.

“I quite that liked that shirt,” Juliette said.

Arthur looked over at her curiously.

“Why’s that?” Arthur asked.

“Blue looks lovely on you,” Juliette answered as she sat beside him.

Arthur smiled slowly, a trace of humor lingering in his gaze.

“Don’t know if I’ve ever looked lovely,” Arthur admitted.

“Hm,” Juliette said as she considered this.

Arthur, whether he wanted to admit or not, was nice to look at. He was certainly the most attractive man she had met in America, something she was surprised by still. An outlaw being this handsome seemed rather unfair, even worse his smile. Soft and genuine, as reassuring as the sun rising each morning. Truly it was terribly unfair. All it had taken was one smile and Juliette was intrigued. He was an interesting man then and now, the more she got to know him the more drawn she was.

“What?” Arthur asked.

Juliette’s smile grew as she stared at her dark coffee. It swirled against the dark metal of the mug, leaving a ring across the walls as it shifted.

“You are very handsome, Arthur,” Juliette said. “Blue suits your eyes well.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Arthur said, sounding flustered.

Compliments often caught him off guard, earning hesitance and uncertainty. She was fairly certain he was still waiting for a biting remark, an insult following it, but Juliette never offered one.

“Do not worry about it then,” Juliette said gently.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment. The fire flickered as a small wind brushed by them. Juliette considered what she needed to accomplish today. There was not much, truthfully, but it was helpful to have it in mind. Collecting loose branches for firewood, gathering more water… eventually she would need to write a letter. She had been ignoring the last one she received, but she could only put it off for so long.

“What happened?” Arthur asked.

He did not need to explain, Juliette knew exactly what he wanted to know. She had been putting off talking about that night in depth until he was better, but now… he was better. Healed enough to discuss it at the very least.

“I was looking for you,” Juliette said. “I thought… you had been gone a while. Daniel and Miguel helped me search and helped save you.”

Arthur thought about this for a moment. Juliette was sure they were not the ideal group to rescue him, but as it turned out his gang had not been around to help.

“You coulda gotten yourself killed,” Arthur murmured.

“It was not that dangerous,” Juliette reassured gently. “They are both excellent shots.” 

Arthur did not seem convinced.

“All that matters is that you are safe,” Juliette said.

“Don’t die for me.”

Juliette looked over at him in surprise. He looked solemn; his gaze distant.

“Try not to find too much trouble then,” Juliette said.

Arthur stared at her for a moment, smiling slowly.

“Could’ve left me, wouldn’t have blamed you,” Arthur said.

“I believe I did owe you,” Juliette said. “You have saved me from death several times.”

“That’s different,” Arthur scoffed.

“Not how I see it,” Juliette returned.

“You got shot,” Arthur murmured, his voice heavy.

It had just been a graze wound, needed a few stitches and she was alright. It barely hurt then; the worst was when she used a bow. Other than that, it was nothing more than a scratch. Now it hardly bothered her. Juliette had quickly gone from having never been shot, to having been shot multiple times on various occasions. She had been in America less than two years.

“As were you,” Juliette reminded. “Much worse wounds than what I acquired.”

“I’m an outlaw,” Arthur said lowly.

He took a drink from his coffee and Juliette watched his hand. It did not shake, a reassuring sign.

“And?” Juliette questioned.

“I mostly deserve to be shot at.”

“Regardless, I quite prefer you in one piece,” Juliette said.

“That so?” Arthur asked.

“I am afraid so.” 

Juliette hesitated a moment, her thoughts returning to the same question she had pondering for days. There were meant to be distinct benefits to being in a gang, Juliette understood that. One of them was protection or at least it should have been.

“Why did your gang not save you?” Juliette asked.

Arthur did not answer her immediately. It was a question he had been wondering himself, a question even Miguel and Daniel considered. Why didn’t they save him? Had they gotten busy? Forgotten about him? Left him for dead? Juliette preferred to think Arthur simply had not been gone long enough, but… he had to have been with the O’Driscolls for a few days.

“I don’t know,” Arthur finally answered. “Reckon… they thought nothin’ was wrong.”

Juliette was unsatisfied with this answer, they both were. It felt a lot an excuse to Juliette, a reason to look past it. This was not a sin Juliette was eager to overlook. Arthur had helped kill half of Valentine for his gang and they could not return the favor.

“Things go wrong sometimes,” Arthur said.

“What happened then?” Juliette asked. “How did you end up being captured?”

Arthur hesitated a moment, before sighing heavily.

“We got tricked,” Arthur grumbled. “Been in a fight with the O’Driscolls for too long. Thought we could end it, but they had other plans.”

“A peace treaty,” Juliette said.

She remembered that being mentioned the night they had saved him. That was what Daniel and Miguel suspected had happened.

“Yep, how’d you know?” Arthur asked.

“Miguel and Daniel mentioned something similar, they had overheard rumors,” Juliette explained.

It was not a good sign they were right. If they had heard rumors, it should have more obvious it was a ruse to Arthur’s gang. They had played into a trap willingly, risking Arthur’s life. It was clear Juliette was annoyed by this, her eyebrows scrunched, and her lips settled in a discontent frown.

“It was reckless,” Juliette said.

“Tried to tell ‘em that,” Arthur agreed. “Didn’t sit right with me neither.”

“And you still went?” Juliette asked, her voice rising.

“Didn’t have much choice.”

There it was again. That same reasoning, he had after Valentine. Didn’t have much choice. It was an excuse, not a reason.

“You are going to get yourself killed if you continue with that line of thought,” Juliette said flatly.

Arthur did not argue. The silence felt condemning.

“Should’ve left me,” Arthur finally said. “Would’ve… found another way out. I don’t want you gettin’ killed over me.”

“Then stop behaving foolishly, Arthur,” Juliette chastised. “You are a smart man.”

“Think I’ve proven otherwise,” Arthur reasoned.

“No, you have proven to have a dog like obedience,” Juliette said in frustration.

“Hm.”

That was the slight he cared about, not being called stupid, but obedient.

“You are loyal, Arthur,” Juliette murmured, her voice growing gentler. “That is not… inherently a bad thing, I believe you have entrusted the wrong people. Whether it was intentional or not, you seem to have been left for dead.”

Again, Arthur was quiet, contemplating this. She knew she was unaware of the full situation, but Juliette questioned if she needed to see more. The evidence seemed clear enough to find a reasonable conclusion. Perhaps they would have saved Arthur, but Arthur had not had hours let alone days. Juliette had found herself wondering if they had waited a little longer if he would have survived. His wounds were not minor, they were deep, his skin pale from the blood loss. He seemed steps from the grave.

“I am glad you are alive,” Juliette said quietly. “Please be careful.”

“Weren’t you the one baitin’ out wolves?” Arthur asked, a small trace of humor in his tone.

Juliette glanced up at him, to see him smiling slightly. Juliette smiled slowly.

“I thought you had forgotten about that,” Juliette said.

“Ain’t ever forgettin’ that, Jules,” Arthur chuckled weakly.

Her smile fell. He had not yet regained back his full strength, but he was improving. There was no end to her questions, she was uncertain if she had adequately tended to him. He deserved better than her fumbled care, the last time she had helped with a gun wound was Valentine. Then she had a doctor instructing her nearby. Arthur had helped her with her own wound, told her how to care for it. All the instruction she had gotten over the past few months had felt distant in that moment, the details blurred and vague in her memories. She had notes in her journal, but that was not something she could have possibly read over.

“I’m alright,” Arthur reassured, dragging her back from her thoughts.

Juliette studied him and he watched her with a gentle look in his gaze.

“Are you feeling better?” Juliette asked.

“You already asked that,” Arthur said.

She had, but Juliette felt the need to ask him again. His health could very well change suddenly, Juliette wanted to be sure that would not happen. He had survived the worst of it, Juliette refused to let him die after he had been rescued.

“Perhaps,” Juliette admitted.

Her gaze travelled back to the fire. It had dimmed some but was still gnawing away at the branches in it. She had a small pile of kindling remaining, eventually she would need to collect more. Hunting was another eventual task, but with Arthur awake she wanted to keep an eye on him. Selfishly, she wanted to hear his voice.

Juliette glanced down as she felt Arthur’s hand brush against hers tentatively. Juliette smiled. How easily she forgave him was a crime in itself. She took his hand in hers gently, running her thumb against the back of his hand.

“Do you regret coming out here?” Arthur asked. “Could’ve gone to a city, Saint Denis. New York.”

This was a common question, one she knew Arthur still needed to hear her answer. A reassurance she did not regret meeting him, getting dragged into this.

“No, I do not,” Juliette answered. Her answer had not changed much, the words shifted, but the meaning remained the same. “The mayor of Saint Denis wrote before I left,” Juliette recalled.

“Why’s that?” Arthur asked curiously.

“He decided to take on a project to large for himself,” Juliette mused. “Just as the Strawberry mayor has, but those men are proud. They would rather trick investors than cut their losses.”

“Does bein’ a mayor ever pay out?” Arthur asked. “Seems like it don’t got much benefit.”

“I do not know,” Juliette admitted. “Many like the power, the feeling of control, even if they do not have much.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even in charge, you have to rely on others,” Juliette reasoned. “In order to keep a city alive, it needs money. Monsieur Lemieux plays a dangerous game with the company keeps. He willingly invited Angelo Bronte into his city, somehow assuming that would become beneficial.”

That was something Juliette did not understand. He may have been desperate, but blood trailed after Bronte. He may have survived his previous incidents, but his partners rarely did. He used people carelessly for his own gain, but always had the law look the other way. Juliette had encountered him a few times, unpleasant experiences. He was an awful man with a cruel sense of humor. Lemieux had wanted to entice a territory war over Saint Denis, well aware of the history the Juliette had with Bronte. They had reached an uneasy treaty that would break swiftly if both were interested in Saint Denis. Juliette had no interest in Saint Denis. It was a struggle from the beginning, not worth the money they would invest. Perhaps it would pay off in the future, but that future was far off.

“Glad I ain’t in that line of business,” Arthur said.

“It is frustrating,” Juliette agreed.

Juliette looked up as she saw a flicker of movement. Nearby the horses were grazing, Whiskey stared at them briefly, before lowering his head once more.

“Hope he hasn’t been much trouble,” Arthur said. “Real temperamental at times.”

“No, he is wonderful,” Juliette said. “He followed you, we may have overlooked the house otherwise.”

“Really?” Arthur asked in surprise.

As much as Arthur complained about Whiskey, she knew he loved him all the same. She often caught him murmuring to him as he rode, reassuring him when he was startled. Arthur was good with horses, his presence seemed to calm Whiskey.

Eventually, Juliette helped Arthur back to the cot. He protested and complained he wanted to help, but he had grown tired, his movements lethargic. Juliette was well aware his strength could only last so long and she refused to let himself push himself too far. He refused to lay down, but instead sat on the edge of the cot. She wanted him to relax, to not worsen his recovery time. Arthur seemed hellbent on exhausting himself.

“What am I supposed ta do?” Arthur huffed.

“Read a book,” Juliette suggested. “Write in your journal. Sleep.”

Arthur grumbled, but didn’t protest further. Juliette left a pistol, his journal, and a book with him.

“I’ll be back shortly,” Juliette said. “I am going to try and hunt.”

“Don’t need help?” Arthur asked.

“From a man that can barely walk?” Juliette returned. “No, I can manage, Arthur. Just get some rest, alright? You need to get better.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Jules?” Arthur asked with a soft chuckle.

“Never,” Juliette answered with a smile. “You can stay as long as you like, but I would like you to be alive to have the choice.”

“Not a lot of people prefer me alive,” Arthur said.

Juliette stood in front of him, setting a hand against his cheek. He moved his hand up against hers, holding it gently. He stared at her with gentle light blue eyes, his smile soft.

“So I am learning,” Juliette said.

She kissed his forehead softly, before moving away from him. His hand lingered against hers for a moment. Her smile grew.

“I’ll be back,” she promised.

Arthur nodded and watched as she left. She wanted to stay, but daylight only lasted so long. Even more pressing, Arthur needed some rest, no matter how much he protested.

She collected her bow and readied Fleur. Juliette did not plan on going far, but Fleur could use the time away from camp. The forest they hid in proved to be a good spot, there was plenty of animals, a stream nearby, and few people wandered out this far.

Juliette had gotten better at hunting, she was from great, but she was decent. She still took a considerable amount of time to aim, something she knew she would need to improve in the future. It had been a while since she had practiced her aim, even with a pistol. It had been nearly two weeks since she and Miguel had shot bottles together. Her aim had proved better than she thought when they saved Arthur, she had not missed.

She was however hopeless at tracking. Arthur had shown her once or twice how to track deer in a forest, but on her own she could not tell the difference. The tracks were always faint, hard to notice. It did not help that Juliette was unaccustomed to forests still, she could not tell when something was off.

Eventually she did manage to hunt a rabbit and was content with that. The kill was rather sloppy compared to a trained hunter, but it did the job. She retreated back towards their camp, before considering checking the area around. Every so often while out of the camp she roamed around the edges of the forest, keeping an eye out to see what was near.

This time, she traveled outside of the forest, far enough she could check the road. She grew uneasy each time she considered the people that could be searching for Arthur, she worried more than she reasonably should. Being able to see the travelers along the road reassured her some. A wagon rattled by distantly, a farmer it seemed like. The driver did not see her, but continued along oblivious. 

Juliette trailed along the edge of the forest, looking around slowly. She spotted two familiar figures on the road, riding towards her. Juliette smiled slowly, it was Miguel and Daniel. She had not seen either of them since that night.

Miguel spotted her first and nudged Daniel. They both guided their horses off of the road to meet her.

“Juliette,” Miguel greeted. “We were hoping to run into you! How’s your outlaw?”

“Still alive, thanks to the both of you,” Juliette said.

Miguel and Daniel exchanged a look, Miguel staring pointedly at Daniel. Daniel rolled his eye.

“What?” Juliette asked.

“Nothing,” Daniel huffed.

“We made a bet if he would live,” Miguel said with a smirk.

“Hm.”

Juliette did not like the sound of that. They had saved Arthur, but it was still very clear they were not fond of him. They were bounty hunters, it made since they would not be cordial.

“Daniel lost,” Miguel continued.

“You thought he would die?” Juliette asked.

She had been worried for a moment there, but the night they had saved him they acted like he would live.

“Ah… wishful thinking,” Daniel grumbled. “Be the end of a lot of problems.”

“He has not caused any trouble lately,” Juliette defended.

Arthur had done a plenty of bad things, but so had she. He could change, if he put his mind to it. She was hoping she had gotten through to him, that he would try and be better. He acted like he had wanted to, but somehow always ended up listening to the wrong person. He was loyal to a fault.

“Got somewhere to talk?” Daniel asked.

“We have a camp set up nearby,” Juliette said. “Why?”

“We have some news,” Miguel explained. “We’ve been busy while you two are on vacation.”

“This is a vacation?” Juliette mused.

She led the way back towards their camp and they followed.

“I can only assume for you it is!” Miguel laughed. “Why else would you be out here? You sound like you had money.”  
“Had money, sure,” Juliette agreed.

“Not the type of person I’d figure to save an outlaw,” Miguel said.

“I did not expect it either,” Juliette admitted. “Arthur was not a part of my plan.”

“What was the plan, then?” Daniel asked. “Come out here to die? Don’t act like you’ve been around all that long.”

Juliette shrugged. They had to slow their horses pace through the forest itself, navigating carefully through it.

“I did not have much of a plan,” Juliette said. “Simply to exist and see what happened.”

“I thought you were smart,” Daniel said slowly.

Juliette glanced over at him. He was younger than she had first estimated him to be, it had become clearer since Emerald ranch. Miguel was right about him, Juliette had tricked. Daniel keeping quiet made him seem older and wiser. Miguel was more open with it, merry and loud.

“I never claimed to be,” Juliette said.

“Seems like a mistake, if you ask me,” Daniel said. “Hell on Earth around here. Worse out West.”

“Is it a mistake if it is done willingly?” Juliette asked.

Daniel looked to Miguel for help, but Miguel merely smirked at him. Daniel hesitated before attempting an answer.

“Ain’t a mistake… a mistake regardless?” Daniel asked tentatively.

Juliette smiled slightly and Daniel glowered.

“I am not mocking you,” Juliette reassured. “There is not a right answer.”

“Why ask then?” Daniel snapped.

“Curious how you would respond,” Juliette said. “Miguel I am certain chooses the wrong path often.”

“Correct,” Miguel agreed with a laugh. “Life is more fun that way!”

“He also gets in a bar fight twice a week,” Daniel scoffed. “Ain’t that a mistake?”

Juliette considered this for a moment.

“Depends on the person,” Juliette finally said. “For Miguel, I would argue no. He is looking for a fight, baits some into it, and perhaps gets hit, but he knew that was a possibility.”

“Always gets me to save him,” Daniel said.

Miguel winked at him and Daniel let out an annoyed sigh. Juliette’s smile grew. She was grateful Daniel was willing to save Miguel, it was a job Juliette was certain she could not rescue him weekly. Arthur rarely needed to be saved.

“I like being saved,” Miguel snickered. “You like playing hero. It all works out!”

Daniel frowned at Miguel.

“Playing hero?” Daniel asked, irritation ringing in his voice.

Miguel seemed even more pleased by this. Juliette was beginning to wonder how their relationship had been in the beginning, how many fights they got in. Daniel only seemed mildly perturbed by Miguel now, but she could easily see him being agitated more early on in their relationship.

“Always wanting to help people,” Miguel continued. “We’ve done too many things for free, Juliette! You would not believe it! Rescued kidnapped fools- not just your fool.”

Juliette smiled.

“Hell, we helped in Strawberry too,” Miguel said.

Her smile fell some. She knew it was not his responsibility to help save towns, but it felt strange hearing it. That he would willingly look the other direction.

“Why did you help in Valentine?” Juliette asked.

“Our friend was there,” Miguel reasoned. “And we were in the middle of it. Strawberry we could’ve turned around and left.”

“It was Van der Linde’s boys,” Daniel scoffed. “I ain’t about to let them shoot a town for free.”

“Bell got away anyway,” Miguel said. “Bastard hid for weeks.”

Daniel grumbled something.

“Some battles just aren’t worth it,” Miguel said. “Strawberry wasn’t. It was only two of ‘em, deputies could handle it.”

“They did a poor job handling it,” Daniel said pointedly.

“Pinkertons are after them now,” Miguel said with a shrug. “Strawberry only made it worse for them.”

Juliette was aware of the situation Arthur was in but did not particularly like the reminder of it. Currently it seemed like Arthur would die for people that wouldn’t save him. It was a fate Juliette hoped he would avoid, but if he continued down this path it was inevitable.

They reached the camp and left the horses by Whiskey. Whiskey promptly moved away from Daniel and Miguel’s horses. Juliette watched in surprise. She heard Arthur say he did not get along with other horses, but he was fine with Fleur.

Daniel and Miguel settled around the fire while Juliette tended to Fleur. Miguel prodded at the fire with a stick before adding some more wood to it.

“Not a bad spot,” Miguel said.

“Considering it was dark out still, I would say it is excellent,” Juliette said.

“Haven’t moved then?” Daniel asked.

“No, should we?” Juliette asked uncertainly.

She had considered it but hadn’t dared move Arthur. She counted herself lucky he survived the first move. He was doing a lot better now, but she was still concerned.

“Hm… no,” Miguel said with a shrug. “Besides we have news-“

“Thought I heard your voice,” Arthur grumbled.

Juliette looked back to see Arthur standing in the tent entrance. He was frowning at Miguel, who smirked back at him.

“Juliette! You are supposed to bury a corpse,” Miguel laughed.

Arthur’s frown deepened as his eyes narrowed. Juliette smiled and walked towards Arthur.

“Miguel,” Arthur said lowly. Juliette shot him a look and Arthur continued gruffly, “Thanks for savin’ me.”

Arthur said something under his breath, Juliette only caught a swear word. She shook her head in amusement and moved to his side. She helped him over towards the fire and he begrudgingly accepted it. She was well aware he was trying his hardest to stand taller, walk with as little support as possible. He didn’t want them knowing how weak he was, despite them having helped save him.

“Yeah, well,” Miguel said with a shake of his head. “You are not as bad as I thought… Still, I would have rested easy if we had left you.”

Daniel nodded in agreement.

“Awfully kind,” Arthur remarked.

He settled across from them. Juliette hovered a moment, wanting to make sure he was alright.

“Why did you save me?” Arthur asked.

“You are Juliette’s outlaw,” Miguel explained.

Arthur’s gaze traveled to a fresh wound on Daniel’s arm. Juliette looked over as well, studying the wound. Daniel pulled down his rolled-up shirt sleeve to cover the bandages. Blood peeked through it, staining the bandages red. 

“We ran into some trouble earlier,” Miguel admitted. “Everything is fine now.”

“Uh huh,” Daniel said. “You weren’t the one bleeding.”

“Is that taken care of?” Juliette asked.

“Well enough,” Daniel said. “Not deep, a goddamn kitchen knife.”

“How’d that happen?” Arthur asked.

Juliette sat down beside him; she could take care of the rabbit later. She was now intrigued.

“Ah… lapse of judgement,” Miguel chuckled. “Stumbled upon this strange pair at a pig farm-“

“Not exactly,” Daniel corrected. “Heard some rumors about it.”

“Right well, we went there to investigate, and got invited in,” Miguel explained.

“Freaky folk,” Daniel said. “Weren’t you the one spouting off on about lost battles? That one seemed pretty damn lost-“

“I was curious, Danny!” Miguel complained.

“Mhm. Get the information you wanted?”

“More,” Miguel agreed with a chuckle. “These two, they were siblings, but acted like all friendly. Too close. They invited us in to eat-“

“And you went in?” Arthur asked.

“Of course!” Miguel exclaimed.

He liked having everyone’s gaze on him, them waiting for him to continue. Daniel watched him with a slight smile, amused by his antics.

“They cooked up something strange and foul smelling, filled the whole house in this nasty stench,” Miguel continued. “They wanted us to sit at the table, and as a good guest I did. While Daniel poked around some. They paid him no mind, I kept them busy. He ended up spotting something strange out the back window, pigs eating a severed arm-“

“Did you eat the food?” Juliette questioned.

“I am not that stupid, Juliette,” Miguel remarked. “It was laced, possibly made from human. The woman went back in the kitchen before Daniel explained and pulled a knife on him. Guess she wanted to feed his arm to the pigs too.”

“Christ,” Arthur said. “You two sure like trouble, don’t chu?”

“More than you’ll ever know,” Miguel agreed.

Juliette looked them both over slowly but could not spot any wounds. It was hard to see, they both wore long sleeve shirts, and long pants. It was colder now, nearly freezing in the evenings.

“You said you had news earlier,” Juliette reminded.

“Right!” Miguel said. “Good news-“

“Sort of,” Daniel argued.

“Mostly good news,” Miguel corrected. “O’Driscolls think Arthur’s dead, they stopped looking while back.”

“Why do they think that?” Juliette asked.

Miguel shrugged as if it did not matter. Maybe it didn’t. Juliette grew up in a family that did not operate on guessing, if someone was dead you had to see the corpse.

“Dunno,” Miguel admitted. “He was nearly dead when we found him. Guess they didn’t think he could get far.”

“Reckon I wouldn’t have,” Arthur said. “If I was on my own, ‘course.”

“They think Arthur escaped on his own?” Juliette asked uncertainly.

That seemed to be what Miguel was implying, but Juliette could not fathom that. Arthur was strong and a good shot, but there had been too many men around for him to kill. There was no weapon he could have gotten either; his guns had been in the house.

“Seems that way,” Miguel agreed. “Maybe they think Van der Linde’s boys did. Speaking of, here’s the bad news, some of your gang’s looking for you.”

Arthur thought this over for a moment.

“Is that bad?” Juliette asked, glancing between them.

“Maybe,” Daniel inputted. “They hear Van der Linde’s boys are still looking, O’Driscolls might look too. We tried to shut Marston up, he was about to start a fight in Rhodes over it.”

“What’d you do to him?” Arthur asked with an accusatory frown.

“Just talked,” Miguel reassured. “John ain’t very good at talking, but he isn’t stupid. He figured out we knew something quick and wanted to shoot me.”

“Your gang isn’t smart,” Daniel said. “They aren’t exactly quiet about their searching. O’Driscolls don’t seem to think nothin’ of it for now, thankfully. Don’t know whose bright idea it was to not play up them thinking you’re dead.”

Arthur nodded in agreement.

“Should we do anything?” Juliette asked.

They were as far as Juliette could get them that night, but that meant they were within hours reach of the house he’d been kept at.

“Nah, not for now,” Miguel said. “It would be more dangerous on the road.”

This did seem to be the best course of action. They discussed it a while longer and Miguel agreed to return if anything changed. Juliette finally got up and collected the rabbit, checking on the horses as she did. Whiskey had moved closer, with Fleur in between him and the other two. Fleur seemed to be the mediator between the groups.

Juliette collected the various cooking supplies by the fire. She returned to sit by Arthur, and he reached for the knife and rabbit, claiming he could at least skin it. After negotiation, Juliette agreed. It was not terribly draining a task, it was easy enough. Still, she worried.

“Want us to say anything to Marston?” Daniel asked Arthur.

“Don’t know if it would change much,” Arthur said. “He’s stubborn.”

Arthur’s voice sounded strange then, he had not sounded particularly happy the first time Marston was mentioned either. Of course, this was the same John he had shot Valentine for, the same one they had seen a while back.

Their conversation slowly changed, shifting to stories to exchange. Miguel shared more extravagant tales, from when he was young, to days ago. Arthur shared little but offered more when relating to moments he and Juliette shared. Namely, his favorite was the wolves. It always had been. Juliette merely listened in amusement as he told it, protesting only when he claimed they were seconds from death.

“Arthur shot them when they were over ten feet away,” Juliette said.

“It was barely five feet, Jules,” Arthur argued. “That photograph proves it.”

He was right, after he pulled it from his journal Juliette was reminded just how close their encounter had been. She did not remember it being particularly frightening. Even then, she had a strange trust in Arthur. There were few people she had ever felt this level of trust in and Arthur was the only one that currently retained it.

The light began to fade, and they cooked some food. Miguel and Daniel produced some food to add, helping some. It was a pleasant evening, it felt as if they left shortly after arriving, but the sunset made it clear just how long it had been.

Juliette helped Arthur back to the tent and checked over his wounds. They seemed fine, considering everything. There was not blood bleeding through the bandages, nothing appeared to have reopened. Juliette was grateful for that.

She left Arthur to check on the horses and tend to the camp. This was the part Juliette was used to, she had done this long before Arthur was injured. The only new addition was Whiskey, but she liked having him around.

Juliette still kept an eye out for any intruders but saw nothing suspicious. They might be very lucky if the O’Driscolls did think he was dead. That would at least mean the O’Driscolls would not be looking. She was not particularly reassured that his own gang was still looking. At least they cared for him somewhat, enough to look once they heard he was dead. Juliette did not particularly want to encounter any of his gang again.

Juliette walked back to the tent; the sky now dark. She was more relieved by Arthur’s activity today, he seemed to be feeling better finally.

Arthur was sitting on the cot, he had not yet laid down. Juliette was beginning to question how much rest he had even gotten.

“Arthur,” Juliette chastised.

“I don’t want to steal your bed, Jules,” Arthur said.

He begin to stand and Juliette set a hand on his shoulder. The fact that this was enough to stop him proved her point. He sighed.

“Go to sleep, Arthur,” Juliette said gently. “Give yourself another day.”

He seemed to consider this a moment, but still was frowning. Juliette smiled and carefully guided him to lay back down. She kept a hand against him, nearly certain he would try and get up if she moved.

She sat down on the edge of the cot.

“I will not be pleased if you die after your wounds were taken care of,” Juliette reprimanded. “Your job now is only to rest.”

“Don’t feel right,” Arthur muttered.

“Well… there is not much to be done for that,” Juliette said. “Just try and relax. We do not need to worry about them looking for you anymore.”

“You could’ve died,” Arthur said. “If-“

“There is no if,” Juliette said with a sigh. “We are alive, Arthur. No need to worry over what could have happened now. Just rest.”  
Juliette would not have guessed this to be this difficult, especially when concerning his own health. He had rested before; on lazy afternoons he had slept with his hat pulled over his face. She had often read those days or was working on a particularly long and not very interesting photo. Juliette had fallen victim to a landscape photo, well aware it was pointless, but she still thought it was pretty enough.

Arthur’s hand settled on top of hers. He watched her closely, seemingly ready for her to move away from him. She did not, but instead remained by his side. Juliette had no plans to leave him soon. She wished he would stay forever, but she was well aware once he had healed enough he would leave. It was a fact she had to remind herself of, there was a time limit.

Time crept on and Juliette’s will to stand diminished. With his hand on hers, it felt like a cruel act to remove it, even just to return to her own sleeping roll. So, she did not. She remained and eventually settled down beside him, careful not to shift him.

His hand tightened over hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there was only one cot


	22. Honoring Who We Pretend to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnd i'm back! I want updates to be quicker than two weeks but quarantine's hitting hard. I was productive yesterday which felt really nice for a change :') hope you guys are handling it well if you're still in quarantine

It was all too easy to admit how much he liked being away from the gang. He didn’t particularly like not being able to work, but he enjoyed staying with Juliette. He didn’t have to break up any drunken brawls, a regular occurrence at the camp. They never seemed to make a week without a fight. Sean liked taunting people too much and never could back down. Bill had a terrible temper and got dumber with each drink he took. Not to mention Micah, the one person Arthur was ever slow to help. He didn’t mind watching Bill or John hit him, usually he waited long enough Dutch or Hosea snapped at him. He’d long been considered the gang’s enforcer, but Micah was so damn easy to hate.

There was plenty of things he liked about being out here, but Juliette was the biggest reason. He liked hearing her voice early in the morning, sometimes if it was early enough she spoke quietly in French. Arthur was pretty sure he’d figured out what was French for ‘good morning’, but had yet to say it himself. He didn’t particularly want to butcher it in front of her yet, not until he was more certain. He’d learned a few swear words as well, he guessed. He’d realized what she’d say her under her breath when something went wrong wasn’t English, but instead growled French. Swearing Arthur understood in any language, the tone was clear.

Each morning was better than the previous, Arthur’s wounds had healed significantly, and he woke up feeling more and more alive. Arthur was used to suffering through nightmares, came with the territory, but now they seemed like a distant memory. He was pretty sure it was because of Juliette, but he had no proof to back it up. It was a nice thought anyway.

The only bad thing about it was the longer the stayed the less he wanted to leave. He would have to soon, he knew it. Felt it in his bones. He wasn’t a deserter by any means, and he wouldn’t just abandon the gang out of nowhere. He wasn’t like John, no matter how much John argued Arthur would’ve done the same. Just thinking of the accusation made Arthur’s skin crawl. Arthur had chosen the gang over his own son. A mistake Arthur wouldn’t make twice. 

That day had been rather slow, something Arthur was growing fonder of. When he was younger days like this drove him insane, he was always up to some trouble. Now he longed for lazier days without any gunfights.

He hadn’t moved much that day, but neither had Juliette. They were settled under one of the large trees, dappled sunlight falling around them. Arthur had his journal with him, and Juliette had a few sheets of paper accompanied by a frustrated frown.

The bounty hunters had stopped by early on in the morning, bringing them mail and news. Arthur was frankly surprised they visited as much as they did, usually it was twice a week. He reckoned they were better friends then he’d thought, but he probably should’ve figured that after they’d risked their lives to save Arthur for Juliette. Arthur knew his bounty would be enough to set them up for life, but they never once seemed tempted. He liked them more for it, knowing they were loyal friends to her.

Juliette had gotten a few letters, none of which seemed to make her particularly happy. She had ignored them for the greater part of the morning, but finally decided to open them. She frowned down at the letter; an accusation settled in her gaze.

“Nothin’ good?” Arthur questioned as he watched Juliette skim over the letter once more.

“Never is,” Juliette said humorlessly.

Arthur peered over and was unsurprised to find he couldn’t read it. He recognized Juliette’s name, as fancy as it was written, and the last name at the bottom, Bellerose. Had to be family. Juliette noticed his gaze and her frown vanished, replaced by a slight smile.

“Can you read French?” Juliette asked.

“Nah,” Arthur admitted. “Can barely read English, Jules.”

“I doubt that,” Juliette said in amusement. “You read better than I expected… I suppose that might reflect more on what I thought of cowboys.”

“I reckon most don’t read,” Arthur said. “I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been taught by Hosea.”

“Who is he?” Juliette asked curiously.

“Ah well…”

Describing who he was proved harder than Arthur would’ve guessed. Hosea was a lot of things to Arthur, probably the man Arthur respected most in the world. There had been a time when he’d looked up to Dutch more, but as he grew older, he realized how wise Hosea was. Arthur used to be frustrated at how long Hosea took on scouting out missions, but now Arthur understood him. Hosea avoided incidents like Blackwater, while Dutch seemed to run towards them. That wasn’t fair to Dutch, but Arthur couldn’t help his lingering resentment. There had been too many situations they could’ve avoided if Dutch had been more careful.

“Part of the gang then,” Juliette guessed. “You do not have to tell me anything Arthur, if you do not want to.”

Arthur smiled slowly. He appreciated the reassurance, but there was nothing Arthur wouldn’t share with her at this point. Juliette was surprisingly easy to talk to, he was certain if she wanted to she could get him to say about anything.

“It ain’t that,” Arthur promised. “Just don’t know rightly how to describe him... he’s a lot smarter than me, wise, y’know… been like a father to me for a long time.”

“You should give yourself more credit,” Juliette chastised. “You are far more intelligent then you let on.”

“Don’t know about that,” Arthur mumbled.

He’d never had what folks called a proper education. He’d learned stuff through the gang, whatever Hosea thought he should know he taught him. Reading and writing was the top of that list, something Arthur was grateful for. Hosea was teaching Jack now, and he was getting better day by day. Jack would sometimes bring Arthur a book to read to him at night and lately he’d heard Jack read along. He was a smart kid, smarter than his pa. John never liked Arthur hanging around Jack. John had confronted him over it outside of Valentine before they’d shot it up. Now Arthur did notice when John shot a glare at him for being near Jack. Great father he was, refused to do the work himself and got mad at anyone that tried to help.

Arthur didn’t understand how his thoughts always led back to his frustrations with the gang, either Dutch, Micah, or John. It was all issues Arthur didn’t know how to solve; ones he was pretty sure he couldn’t fix. Just had to wait it out and hope they did the right thing. Jack deserved a good father, and if John just tried, he could be that for him. Now he was an absentee despite living in the same goddamn camp.

“I ain’t sure what to do anymore,” Arthur admitted. “Reckon there’s a lot of problems I can’t solve.”

Juliette nodded slowly in agreement.

“I understand,” Juliette sighed. “But… it is better to focus on what we can fix, rather than what we cannot.”

Arthur looked over at her, unconvinced. Juliette’s smile grew.

“There is a lot wrong with this world, Arthur,” Juliette said. “If we focus only on what we cannot correct, we will go mad. It is not a good life to live, trying to fix what is beyond your control.”

“Can’t tell what I can control anymore,” Arthur muttered.

“It is hard to,” Juliette agreed. “But… focus on one thing at a time. Not every person deserves your help, sometimes you just have to let people become who they want to be. Just focus on being a good person.”

Arthur considered this in silence for a moment. He knew it was good advice, but it sounded hard to follow. He just wanted things to be better for the gang, for Jack, hell even for John. He wanted John to be better than him, Arthur had already made these mistakes. John seemed hellbent on making them too.

“Otherwise you will get shot again,” Juliette said.

Her hand slid over the back of his and he instantly turned his hand over to take hers.

“Been getting shot at a lot lately,” Arthur said. “Getting real tired of it.”

“I do not like it when you are shot,” Juliette reminded.

“Promise me… if I do go to far, you won’t try and save me,” Arthur began, his voice heavy. “I don’t want you dying for me.”

“I cannot promise that.”

She spoke without hesitation and Arthur wondered how often she thought about it. How long did it take her to decide to try and save him? He’d figured she’d at least considered the chance of death before saving him, but now he was starting to think she hadn’t.

Arthur frowned at her and Juliette leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I quite like you alive,” Juliette said.

“I don’t want you dying for me,” Arthur repeated.

“Stop trying to get yourself killed then,” Juliette said simply.

“That’s that then?” Arthur asked.

He didn’t quite know how to describe how he felt then. Strangely and selfishly he felt warmed by her proclamation, that she cared about him. He knew the gang was loyal to him, plenty of them would go into a gunfight to save him, but it was something different entirely to hear it from Juliette. A woman who probably had never held a gun until this year, someone who had no reason to risk her life for him. He didn’t offer her much, easily she could have left him to die. Could’ve left him plenty of times, he’d given her plenty of reasons. Somehow, she stayed resilient by his side. It was a new responsibility. He had someone else to stay alive for suddenly. If he died, now he knew it would hurt her.

“I love you, Arthur,” Juliette said quietly.

He’d known it before the words left her, but hearing it reaffirmed his new discovery. Her hand tightened on his for a moment.

In just those four words, she’d made it all the more difficult to leave. He’d never wanted her to get hurt, but now he wanted desperately to be able to promise he wouldn’t get in trouble. He’d try harder to stay safe, if only to keep her from harm.

“I love you too,” Arthur murmured.

He carefully moved his arm around her, hesitant and slow. Somehow he was already nervous he’d lose those words quickly, but Juliette only smiled. He relaxed again, letting his eyes fall closed. It was rare he went this long without anything bad happening. It was a nice change of pace, despite the lingering reminder that he’d have to go back.

It wore on day by day. He got better, but he knew exactly what that meant. He almost wished his wounds would take longer to heal. It was a selfish thought for many reasons, but it didn’t stop him from wanting a little more time.

Eventually the day did come that he knew it was time to move on. Juliette seemed aware of it before he even said it, they both knew it was coming. He was grateful she didn’t ask him to stay, if she had he wasn’t sure he’d be able to leave. Instead while he readied himself, Juliette gathered up the supplies.

“Not hanging around?” Arthur asked.

“No, I usually do not like staying in one place so long,” Juliette explained. “And it would be awfully sad without you.”

“Reckon you’ll enjoy some time away from me,” Arthur chuckled.

Juliette shrugged with a sad smile.

“I enjoy your company, Arthur,” Juliette said.

He wasn’t sure why it always surprised him to hear that, but it did. There was a lot of evidence to it, namely that she still hung around after everything. Still he was waiting for the day she’d realize what a fool she’d wasted her time on.

He walked back to Whiskey and retrieved his pistols, sliding them back into the holsters at his hip. Whiskey looked up at him briefly and Arthur obediently patted his neck.

“Been real good, haven’t you?” Arthur asked him quietly.

He was sure Whiskey would make up for his good behavior later, he always seemed to. He was still a young horse, part of what Arthur accounted for his ornery nature. Fleur seemed to be a good age, calmer and used to being ridden. Fleur was calm enough for the both of them, she always seemed to relax Whiskey.

“Will you miss me?” Juliette asked.

Arthur looked back towards her. She was holding a folded blanket near the firepit, watching him closely. She knew the answer, he was well aware of that. He smiled, humored.

“Reckon I will,” Arthur said. “More than you know.”

She walked over towards him and Arthur turned to face her. She revealed his hat and Arthur smiled. She leaned up and he moved down so Juliette could set it on his head. He stood back up straight and adjusted the hat on his head.

“Good answer,” Juliette whispered.

“Thank you kindly.”

It didn’t take them long to tear down the camp. Quickly Arthur was wishing he was still bleeding, it was childish how much he didn’t want to go back. It took a lot of willpower with each step.

“Well…” Juliette began. “Are you sure you have to return?”

He stared at her a moment, before smiling sadly. He shrugged. It wouldn’t take much to keep him from leaving, he didn’t feel particularly strong right then. She didn’t beg for him to stay and as grateful as he was for it, some part of him was desperate for the excuse. Just needed to hear the words, convince himself they were all better off if he stayed put.

“For now,” Arthur finally said.

Juliette met him by the horses and watched him for a moment. She sighed and Arthur gently brushed the loose strands of her hair back behind her ear. Juliette smiled slightly before kissing him delicately.

“Be careful, Arthur,” Juliette said. “Now we know your gang will not always save you.”

Arthur nodded. He had a new reason to keep himself safe.

As they departed the sun began to trail down from the center of the sky. They’d spent the morning packing and finding a way to leave. It wasn’t easy, but with each step Whiskey took his resolve grew. He’d been with the gang far too long, owed them too much, to just up and leave. He could never do that, they still needed him. He just needed to make sure they had enough money, lie low, and it’d be over soon enough.

The land around him seemed to have the same slow start as him, horses lazily grazed in the fields, birds remained perched on their branches, and deer merely glanced up as they passed. He was used to the world rushing around him, deer darting across the path. The few travelers that did pass seemed tired, they hardly acknowledged Arthur.

It was a long ride back to the gang’s camp, all too long. It gave him plenty of time to reflect on everything that’d happened, all the time he’d spent with the O’Driscolls. He could remember clearly thinking that was his last day, feeling as if all the blood had drained from him. He’d given up hope on escaping, let alone being saved. His last coherent thought had been wishing he’d had more time; he could’ve seen Juliette one last time. Then she was there, like a dream. A dream that only ended when he had to wake himself up.

He took long enough that by the time they were riding up to the winding path back to the camp, night was beginning to fall. He’d relaxed some on the ride, his anger slowly dissipating. He’d hoped it would remain that way, but all it took was a few words and it reignited.

“Who the hell is that?” Javier demanded.

Arthur spotted him near the path, leaned against a tree with his rifle in hand. Javier peered back at him, studying him.

“Arthur?” Javier asked in shock.

“Yep,” Arthur grumbled.

He wasn’t particularly happy to be back.

“We thought you were dead,” Javier said.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Arthur said.

He rode past Javier and back into the camp. Javier followed him.

“Ain’t you supposed to be keepin’ watch?” Arthur scoffed.

“You’ve been gone for ages, Arthur!” Javier said with a shake of his head. “I want to hear the story.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it,” Arthur said.

Arthur was plenty aware his current story wouldn’t be taken by the gang well, but he didn’t particularly want to share much. He never really did, but now there was another reason. A large part of the gang’s night took place around the campfire, everyone exchanging stories, some more exaggerated than others. Sean in particular loved to exaggerate every part of his retellings, making it hard to tell what actually happened. Arthur never took anything that kid said too seriously, he was always looking for a reaction. Lenny and Hosea both tended to lean towards the truth, Lenny undersold some of his escapades. He was newer to the outlaw life, without much experience to lean on. Usually he was with an older member to keep an eye on him. Charles and John were more like Arthur, preferred not to share too much.

He guided Whiskey back towards the other horses gathered. He pulled his brush from his saddlebag and ran it across Whiskey. He wasn’t that dirty; they’d kept him clean. Arthur just wanted to get rid of any dust that gathered from Rhodes. Rhodes was far dustier than Valentine had been, but Arthur preferred dust to mud. Mud was harder to clean and stained more. Dust did cling to his clothes, making it hard to look cleaned up. He always tried to brush it off before meeting Juliette, but every time he did it came right back.

“Arthur’s back,” Javier called into the camp.

Arthur shot an irritated look at Javier, but he didn’t pay Arthur any mind. Arthur finished with Whiskey and started into the camp, already spotting several sets of eyes on him. He let out a short sigh, he’d somehow hoped he’d be able to just come back without much fuss. No such thing.

“Who’s back?” Dutch shouted.

His anger trickled back, and he glanced around for Dutch. He didn’t see him immediately. Javier vanished to ruin Arthur’s night, while Arthur started towards his tent. He wondered if anyone had messed with it.

“Arthur,” Hosea said in a breathy voice. “Thank God. Where on Earth have you been?”

“You noticed I was gone?” Arthur asked with a lopsided smile. He walked over to where Hosea was sitting and Hosea stood up to meet him. “Thought you’d be relieved, one less idiot to watch over.”

“Nonsense,” Hosea chastised. He hugged Arthur briefly, before looking him over. “We thought you’d died, Arthur.”

“Ah, nearly did,” Arthur admitted.

“My son is back,” Dutch declared.

Arthur’s smile melted into a frown as he turned with narrowed eyes. Dutch walked over to them, a few others following him. He didn’t particularly like stirring up crap in camp, but it was hard to keep his tongue bit down. Dutch didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong, while Hosea seemed all too aware.

“What happened to you?” Hosea asked.

“O’Driscolls,” Arthur muttered. “Jumped me when I went with Dutch ‘n Micah.”

“We had no idea, son,” Dutch said. _Son. _A while back that word made Arthur feel like they were family, it was reassuring. Now somehow it felt like an excuse, a reason to just forgive and forget. Arthur had never been particularly good at forgiveness, something John was well aware of.

Dutch continued, “We would’ve came for you-“

“Why didn’t ya?” Arthur asked, his frustration seeping into his voice. “I was there a long while, Dutch, too long.”

“We were looking for you,” Dutch said. “We’d never abandon you.”

It sure felt like they had. He felt like he’d been left for dead without a second thought. How long did it take for them to figure it out? To realize he’d been gone too long?

“We knew you’d been gone a while,” Hosea said. “Thought something was wrong when you didn’t come back, but we only knew when some O’Driscolls ran their mouth. Claimed you were dead.”

“I would’ve been,” Arthur agreed gruffly.

He walked past them, continuing onto his tent. Several of the gang lingered around them, listening in. Arthur didn’t particularly like having an audience. He was mad alright, but he didn’t want the whole camp watching him close.

“How did you escape then?” Sean questioned. “Give ‘em hell did ya?”

“Don’t worry chu worry about it,” Arthur said lowly.

“That’s no fun, Arthur,” Sean scoffed. “Where’s the tale of Arthur Morgan single handedly taking down a team of O’Driscolls? Where is that bastard? He ought to ‘ear it-“

Arthur ignored Sean and continued back towards his tent. He sat down on his cot and took off his hat, running a hand through his hair. He let out a long breath, grateful to get a moment alone. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, he knew some time had passed, but didn’t quite feel the minutes slide by.

“Uncle Arthur?” A small voice questioned.

Arthur glanced over to see Jack standing tentatively nearby, his eyes wide and uncertain.

“Hey Jack,” Arthur greeted with a gentle smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Are you a ghost?” Jack asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Arthur said. “That okay with you?”

Jack nodded, standing just outside of Arthur’s area. He was holding something behind his back.

“Come on over,” Arthur invited. “I ain’t doin’ much.”

Jack lit up with a smile and instantly walked over, he’d been waiting for the invitation. He held out a familiar picture book and Arthur chuckled.

“Already need a new one?” Arthur asked.

Jack shook his head and said, “No... Uncle Hosea’s been busy.”

“Too busy to read to you?” Arthur guessed.

Jack nodded with a disappointed frown. He stared up at Arthur hopefully, not quite daring to ask the question. Arthur looked around uncertainly, trying to see if John was around. He was plenty aware John would be mad at him for reading to Jack, but he wasn’t sure he cared anymore.

“Did you try asking your pa?” Arthur asked.

Jack stared at him and bit his lip. He shook his head again.

“Scared to ask?” Arthur tried.

“He always says no,” Jack mumbled.

He stared down at his hands, looking all too sad. Arthur certainly couldn’t stand that look for long, it was too damn sad for a little kid. Tugged at Arthur’s heart.

“Alright then,” Arthur said. “How about we read it then?”

“Really?” Jack asked eagerly.

He stared up at Arthur again, his eyes wide once more in excitement. Arthur chuckled and patted the spot beside him. Jack climbed up beside him and held out the book to Arthur. Arthur opened it and glanced it over. He hadn’t read a book in a long while, starting from a child’s book might just suit him. He could hear Juliette’s voice then, chastising him. _You are far more intelligent then you let on. _He wasn’t so sure about that, but he appreciated her saying it at least.

While he read Jack would stop him every now and then to ask a question. Certain words tripped him up still, but Arthur was more impressed he knew to ask. That he wanted to learn about it and understand. Arthur certainly hadn’t been that curious, not that he could remember. One day he was going to be the smartest person Arthur ever knew. Jack was a bright kid already, but Hosea certainly helped.

“There you are,” Abigail said, her voice thin. Both Arthur and Jack looked up with a slight jolt, neither quite ready to be lectured. “Jack, we should let Arthur rest.”

“Nah, he’s fine, Abigail,” Arthur reassured. “Could use some company.”

Abigail studied him for a moment.

“You were acting like you wanted nothing to do with everyone earlier,” Abigail said pointedly.

Arthur shrugged and said,” Jack ain’t irritating like some people.”

Abigail frowned.

“Since when do you find Dutch irritating?”

Again, Arthur shrugged. It wasn’t exactly a natural progression of their relationship, he knew that. Lately he’d felt like Dutch was only causing trouble, not thinking about what was best for the gang. He knew Dutch cared for the gang plenty, but he’d been acting rashly ever since Blackwater. Hell even before that, Blackwater was a whole mess they didn’t need already.

“Guess since he didn’t try and save me,” Arthur finally said.

Abigail nodded and crossed her arms. Jack looked between them, trying to figure out if he was in trouble.

“It was awfully strange, Arthur,” Abigail admitted. “A lot of us realized something was wrong, Hosea tried to talk to him. He kept insisting you just decided to leave after.”

“Don’t sound like me.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Abigail agreed. “Well… I do have some laundry to get done if you will watch him for a while.”

“Sure,” Arthur said.

Abigail nodded and looked back to Jack. She smiled at him, before departing. Jack watched her leave for a moment before turning back to the book. Arthur obediently continued to read. Arthur wasn’t sure exactly what had changed, but he did like watching Jack more. There’d been a time it felt like a chore, particularly when Jack was still young. Isaac only recently passed then, the wound still too fresh for Arthur to manage being around Jack easy. It got worse once John did leave. Now that Jack had grown more into his own person, it was easier to separate the two in his mind more. Distance himself in a sense.

Now he was just Jack’s uncle. Jack wasn’t just the ghost of Isaac haunting him, and Arthur wasn’t just a stand in father.

After a while Abigail returned for Jack and they left him. Arthur cleaned up his area and tended to his guns, none of them had been cleaned in a long while. He’d gotten worse about taking care of his guns lately, he didn’t have the same diligence as Hosea did. His weren’t custom neither, he usually just used whatever was around. He never was the type for a fancy gun, as long as it killed a man it was good enough.

Eventually he did wander back into the camp, knowing people were watching him. Probably concerned he’d drop at any moment, half of them looked like he was just a corpse walking around. He guessed it was shocking for him to show up after being proclaimed dead. The bounty hunters had told him and Juliette that the O’Driscolls claimed him dead a while back. He was surprised the gang bought it; he was more resilient then that- well… maybe he wasn’t anymore. He’d been awfully close to death.

He found himself a beer and retreated to one of the campfires. Charles was already sitting down, carving a stick.

“What’re you doin’?” Arthur asked.

“Wasting time,” Charles said. “I left those arrows for you.”

“Thanks,” Arthur said with a small nod.

“Didn’t know if you’d be alive to use them, but figured I still owed you,” Charles explained. “Glad you are.”

Arthur chuckled.

“I didn’t think you’d die that easy,” Sadie exclaimed.

She had walked over, carrying her own bottle of beer. She settled across from Arthur, taking a long swig. Sadie looked at Arthur for a long moment, before smiling crookedly.

“Ain’t like you’ve never been in a bad situation,” Sadie said. “Always seem to find a way to survive.”

“Yeah, well…” Arthur trailed off, not particularly keen on continuing their discussion. “Caused much trouble while I’ve been gone?”

“Right, like they let me do more than chores around here,” Sadie growled. “Ain’t exactly the first picked for robberies.”

“You can take my place next time,” Arthur offered. “Awfully tired of being shot, Mrs. Adler. Got too much lead in me already.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Sadie said.

“Warn me beforehand,” Charles said under his breath.

Arthur laughed and Sadie shot a look at Charles. Charles ignored it easily, not much got under his skin.

“I ain’t a bad shot-“ Sadie began heatedly.

“I heard what happened when you went to get supplies,” Charles said. “Impressive amount of corpses, Mrs. Adler.”

“Well I got some making up to do,” Sadie said. “Spent all those years being good just for it to be worthless.”

Arthur and Charles exchanged a look.

“Ain’t sure that’s how it works,” Arthur said carefully.

“How’s that, Morgan?” Sadie asked sharply. “Ain’t like Jake’s still around, is it? Got the whole damned house burned to the ground, nothing was left. You saw it.”

“Ain’t good,” Arthur said. “Not saying anything like that.”

“What are you saying then?” Sadie asked.

The hostility in her voice had lessened. Sadie had a tendency to blow up as quick as dynamite on people, not that Arthur could blame her any. She’d had it rough, no one could deny it. Like him, she wasn’t the forgiving type. Nor the forgetting. Arthur was starting to question if she’d ever quite move on.

“Aw, I don’t know,” Arthur said. “Y’know… awful things happen, but… ain’t make the good times any worse. Figure I’d like to hold onto whatever good memories I got when it gets rough.”

Sadie frowned at him and Arthur was waiting patiently for her to snap at him. He didn’t share much about who he’d lost, it was hard to talk about. Long time he had kept all those good memories locked up, tried to bury them with the corpses. It didn’t quite work like that. Now, he looked back at them fondly. Course it was sad, but… for a while it’d been alright.

“Never took you for the reminiscing type,” Sadie said.

“I ain’t really,” Arthur said. “Just made too many mistakes. Need to remember somethin’ else.”

Sadie pondered this for a moment.

“Where’s the real Morgan?” Sadie asked with a small chuckle. “You ain’t exactly the optimistic type, where’s all this comin’ from?”

Arthur shrugged and took a drink. The beer coated his tongue in a film for a moment before he swallowed. He could feel it trail down his throat slowly. The fire danced in his vision, the reds and oranges blurring together. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

It was too early to miss Juliette, but he did. He wasn’t sure there’d been a moment he hadn’t missed her since he left. It was strange to feel like a piece of him was missing, but it certainly did. Like he’d left some of himself with her.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said with a slight smile. “Tryin’ to be more positive. Got plenty of negatives already. Ain’t need me to be another.”

“Must’ve gotten hit in the head,” Charles suggested. He shook his head as he mused, “Arthur Morgan an optimist.”

“Aw, shut up,” Arthur said as he waved Charles off.

As the night wore on a few more people joined them. Hosea claimed the remaining crates to sit on, while Sean and John took a seat beside Charles and Sadie respectively. Arthur knew exactly why so many people were sitting around them, they were waiting to be filled in. Arthur avoided the conversation best he could, keeping mostly quiet.

“Out with it already, Arthur,” Sean exclaimed, interrupting John and Charles.

John glared at Sean and Sean smirked.

“Don’t give me that look, scar face,” Sean remarked. “We’re all waiting for the story.”

“Ain’t much to it,” Arthur lied.

“What happened?” John asked. “How did they even find you?”

“I dunno,” Arthur said tiredly. “Guess the whole peace treaty was just an excuse, reckon they know us better than we thought. Seemed like they knew I’d be there.”

“That’s not a good sign,” Charles commented.

“No, it isn’t,” Hosea agreed. “But we have been quarreling with them a long time. What did they want with you, Arthur? I am surprised and grateful they kept you alive.”

“Colm wanted to lure out Dutch into a trap, Pinkertons would’ve been waiting,” Arthur explained.

“Have you told Dutch?” Hosea pressed. “If the Pinkertons already know we’re out here…”

“I haven’t,” Arthur said.

Hosea nodded and stood up. He walked away in the direction of Dutch’s tent, undoubtedly going to discuss how much longer they could stay out here. Arthur wasn’t sure of that himself; he was hoping he’d gotten away before they got the chance to alert the law.

“That’s not the part I want to hear,” Sean said. “C’mon, Arthur! You’re holding out on us!”

“Ain’t important,” Arthur returned irritably.

John frowned at Arthur.

“Alright, Arthur,” Sean finally said. “Keep us in the dark, why don’t you?”

“You ain’t that bright anyway,” Arthur said.

“Ay!” Sean said. “Brighter than you, aren’t I?”

“Shut up,” John said. “You ain’t nothin’ but a pest.”

“I know you missed me while I was gone, Marston!” Sean said. “You don’t have to pretend!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but was pleased Sean’s focus was on John instead. They continued to argue, causing Sadie to leave. Arthur was surprised she lasted as long as she did, usually she left anytime Sean was close. He was rather young and loud, far too loud. He liked the sound of his voice too much.

After a while, Sean left as well to find something to drink. Arthur quite liked the silence that followed his departure. He enjoyed a quite campfire, nothing but the cracking of the fire to interrupt the silence. It was strangely peaceful.

His thoughts wandered quickly in the quiet. Travelling back to Juliette. He couldn’t help but wonder where she was, how quick he could find her again. Not that he could go out looking yet, he’d need to hang around camp some. Do some chores, hunt some, reassure everyone he wasn’t about to take off.

“I looked for you.”

Arthur blinked and looked up. Charles had left them, leaving only him and John. Arthur frowned at John uncertainly. They’d been sitting in silence for a while, he hadn’t expected John to break it.

“I heard,” Arthur agreed. “Appreciate it.”

“Those bounty hunters told you?” John guessed.

Arthur didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. John scoffed and glared down at the ground.

“Who the hell are they, Arthur?”

“Why does it matter, Marston?” Arthur sighed. “Ain’t like they’re around.”

“You acted all friendly with them,” John said. “They don’t seem to be lookin’ for a gang.”

Arthur stared at John for a moment, trying to read his expression. He didn’t understand quite what he was suggesting.

“What? You think I’m gonna turn us in?” Arthur asked.

“Ain’t like that,” John said in frustration. “Just… confused, Arthur.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Arthur said stiffly. “Focus on yourself more, focus on being a good pa to that boy.”

John’s eyes narrowed at that, his frown deepening.

“That ain’t none of your business,” John snapped.

“It don’t work that way, John,” Arthur scoffed. “If you want to talk, we gotta talk. I ain’t about to talk if it’s only about what you think about me. I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think, John.”

He waited for John’s response, but John didn’t offer one.

“That’s what I thought,” Arthur grumbled. “I’m just about tired of quarreling with you. We don’t need to talk unless there’s a job to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i really like the idea of Arthur/John's relationship being this really complex thing bc they're both unwilling to like actually talk it out and share their feelings and like... they're cowboys so _yea_ they're just so bad at communicating  
the game just sort of went from arthur/john don't like each straight to they're buds again and i think i want to focus some on them learning to be ok with each other again instead of just learning to live with each other  
idk its real sad we never got to see the full brother dynamic really  
i like to think the reason arthur struggles so much with just forgiving john and moving is isaac and john doesn't know that so obviously john just thinks arthur's pissed he left for so long (and yeah of course) but its more than that  
i have a shorter fic (that i don't super plan to update soon, burning is my main rdr fic rn) but if you wanna check it out it's about arthur post john leaving +isaac's death  
but anyway!  
i hope you guys liked it <3


	23. Robbing a Gun Store

Juliette had never been one to beg, it was a sign of weakness. And yet when Arthur decided it was time to return to his gang, she found herself wanting to plead with him. Convince him to stay, to move on. It took every ounce of self-restraint she had to not ask, not beg.

It was lonelier once he was gone. Juliette had spent plenty of time travelling on her own after France and never once in the months after had she felt this ache. Juliette knew what was going to happen, she knew eventually he would have to leave. He was loyal, too loyal. Juliette was starting to fear it would get him killed.

She found herself in Rhodes a few days after they had parted ways. She needed more supplies, and a drink. Juliette went to the saloon in the afternoon, hoping to avoid the worst the town had to offer. It was as quiet as a bar could be in the west, well west adjacent really. Rhodes was a particularly despicable place, not a place for conversation. After getting a drink she was able to retire to a table towards the back, keeping a weary eye on the few others.

Juliette retrieved the folded letters from her satchel, surveying them with an irritated gaze. The writing was in a dark ink, the letters swooping, the handwriting unmistakable. Her parents hardly wrote now, they had both given up talking sense into her. Instead this letter had a request, a request she would need to go to Saint Denis for. She was aware Saint Denis was a growing city, one of the few around. Bronte had escaped there after his humiliation in Italy, someone Juliette had little desire to see. From what she heard he had his roots set in the city, bleeding it out for every coin he could.

Juliette pondered the request as she took a drink. The amber liquid was sharp and burning, an adequate distraction for the evening. It was naïve to think this request would be the end of their relationship, that she could simply ride off and vanish. She was a loose end, they knew it as well as she did. Juliette was unsure if her family would try to kill her or not, if this favor would be enough to keep her in their good graces.

She had been right about the archaeologist’s assistant. Word had gotten back to them that she was closer to Saint Denis. Juliette had been careful to not give away her location in any letter, at first in case the letter fell into the wrong hands, but later on she started to question her parents.

Juliette glanced up as she heard footsteps heading towards her and saw Miguel walking towards her with a snide smile. His hair was pulled back, but a strand fell loose into his face. His dark brown eyes were bright with amusement.

“Planning a trip?” Miguel drawled.

Juliette looked up as he collapsed into the empty seat.

“Please, join me,” Juliette said.

“Ahh, I would love to, Juliette,” Miguel chuckled.

He smelled distinctly of smoke, enough so Juliette frowned. Miguel didn’t seem to notice, but instead pulled the map Juliette had laid on the table towards him.

“Do you smoke?” Juliette questioned.

“What?” Miguel asked. He stared at her for a moment, before realizing what she meant. He cackled and said, “No! Danny and I had a great time, someone tried to set us on fire!”

“What?” Juliette asked incredulously. “Did you deserve it?”

“I am wounded, truly,” Miguel said. “We were only looking for a bounty, someone set the barn we were searching on fire!”

“Are you both ok?” Juliette asked as she surveyed him.

He had no visible burn wounds, no fresh bandages peeked out from under his clothes.

“Certainly,” Miguel said. “It takes more than a fire to kill me! Tell me has anyone tried to kill you by setting a barn on fire?! Ha! Someone hates us!”

“Not a barn,” Juliette agreed.

Miguel’s gaze settled on her again, his curiosity peaked by this. He smiled slowly, his eyes flashing with intrigue.

“You cannot say that and not give me a story,” Miguel protested as Juliette remained quiet.

“Oh, but I can,” Juliette said with a slight smile.

She took another drink before sliding the map back towards herself.

“Have you heard anything about Saint Denis?” Juliette asked.

“Me? Hell no,” Miguel said. “I’m not exactly a city slicker myself, the law reacts quicker there! They do not like people like me.”

“Hm.”

She should have expected that response, but she would like to have some more information about Saint Denis before committing to going. There was a clear risk, her decision needed to be calculated and precise. It was much harder to find information without the network she had in France, but she could try.

“Planning to leave us?” Miguel mused. “I know they have a port you could escape from us.”

“I would rather be shot,” Juliette said flatly.

“No family?” Miguel asked.

“I have a family,” Juliette said. “That is the problem.”

“Trouble in aristocrat paradise?” Miguel asked.

His tone had shifted, it was harsher, with a distinct edge to it. Juliette glanced over at him.

“You could say that,” Juliette said.

Miguel downed his drink. He shook his head with a humorless chuckle.

“Left a life of luxury for this?” Miguel asked. “Horse shit for miles, men that will shoot you at the drop of a hat. This is a good place to run? Not a city?”

“My life expectancy was not long as is,” Juliette said. “I needed somewhere to disappear, not somewhere people would know my name.”

“Who did you piss off?” Miguel asked. He sounded normal again, his tone humored.

Juliette stared down at her drink again, shifting the glass against the table to let the liquid slide against the rim of it. It swirled in a small whirlpool.

“I fell in love,” Juliette finally said.

“What is the problem with that?” Miguel asked. “Had to be better than an outlaw!”

Juliette’s smile twisted into a small grimace as her heart squeezed painfully. She rubbed at her eyes tiredly.

“I was engaged,” Juliette finally said. “And she helped me realize who I was… or had been, I suppose.”

“She?” Miguel repeated, his gaze turning on Juliette again.

“Yes,” Juliette agreed. “She.”

It was a strange thing to admit in here of all places, but Juliette knew it was true then. She had never gotten to say the words to her all those years ago, Juliette had been too foolish then to understand. Naïve.

Juliette had met Camille on accident, she was supposed to be somewhere else. She had gotten herself hopelessly lost, deciding she needed a break from her life. She meant to only walk to a nearby store, but then Edmond had tried to follow her. She lied about a meeting, and started in the opposite direction. Then she was lost. Camille saw her and had pity, knowing instantly she was not meant to be there. Camille guided her back to a familiar street and Juliette thought she would never see her again. A few weeks later, she had discovered a discrepancy with a deal her family had made, she had left without telling anyone to investigate it herself. Back then Juliette had been brazen, boldly unafraid of anyone. She thought herself unkillable, above everyone else.

When she had reached the store in question, she had found it empty, the windows boarded up, the door wide open. Inside rats ran across the floorboards, before vanishing into the walls. Weeks ago it had been a thriving business, family owned. 

Camille had been standing on the street when Juliette left, her gaze knowing. She was smart, Juliette knew that just by looking at her. Her hands were worn and covered with flour, she stared at Juliette steadily. Undaunted. Without waiting for a question, she openly explained. Owners were forced out; rent had been raised. The wife left with the kids to her parents. Rumors the husband killed himself.

“You keep taunting me,” Miguel said. “Tell me about her, Juliette. Who is she?”

“Who was she,” Juliette corrected in a heavy voice. “A baker, in France. On this street you never would have found unless you lived there or you were hopelessly lost.”

“Which were you?” Miguel questioned.

“The first time, hopelessly lost,” Juliette said.

“The second?” Miguel pressed.

Juliette frowned at him and Miguel chuckled softly.

“I love a good love story, Juliette,” Miguel said. “There may not be a fire, but we can still talk, can we not?”

“I do not know much about your past,” Juliette argued.

“You know how I met Daniel,” Miguel replied readily. “That’s the same type of story!”

Juliette leaned back in her chair, letting her gaze sweep against the room again. More people had wandered in, a lively poker game had been struck up at the opposite side. The bar tender was serving a group of men.

“Why did you leave France?” Miguel prompted.

“Someone killed her and tried to kill me,” Juliette said in a level tone.

“Revenge not on your mind then?” Miguel asked.

“I believe my family had her killed,” Juliette said as her grip on her glass tightened. “I have no proof, but…”

“Ahh now it makes sense,” Miguel chuckled. “Why not your fiancée? He’d have motive.”

Juliette considered this for a moment. She could hardly see Edmond killing Camille, he had known how important she was to Juliette. Of course, he had not known the extent of their relationship, how often Juliette found herself in that small bakery. Back then even she did not realize she had been in love; it was impossible for him to know. To her family Camille was a distraction, it would make more sense…

“It could have been someone else’s revenge,” Juliette finally said. “I know who tried to kill me, but…”

He had only tried to kill her for then recent transgressions, killing Camille would have served no purpose. Edmond still refused to admit Camille had been murdered, he insisted it had just been a robbery. She was killed in the aftermath.

Juliette took another drink.

“She had a son,” Juliette said under her breath. “Felix.”

“He alive?” Miguel asked.

“No,” Juliette said. “Not murdered, but might as well had been. He fell ill after his mother died, from contaminated water.”

That was something Juliette would never live down. She had looked for Felix after Camille had passed, but spent too much time trying to find out who killed her. By the time she found Felix, it was too late. Juliette still wondered if she could have gotten there sooner, if she could have gotten him to a doctor, gotten him medicine, done something. Instead she had left him to rot.

“I am sorry,” Miguel said. “I did not mean to…” He trailed off uncertainly. Juliette looked up at him, startled. Miguel rarely ever apologized.

“No,” Juliette sighed. “If I did not want to talk about it, I would not have.”

“I had a little sister,” Miguel said. “Smart little girl, she was. Our father was a criminal, in and out of jail. We think he got killed after trying to escape, but his body never resurfaced.”

Juliette studied Miguel for a moment. His expression was somber, his gaze distant.

“We were dirt poor,” Miguel said with a hollow chuckle. “I took to theft, at first to make money, then because I liked taking from the rich. They looked down on us, you know. Not many around me, but one day this rich foreigner passed through. I stole from him this antique pocket watch, worth more than everything we owned!”

“You got caught?” Juliette guessed.

“Of course I did,” Miguel said. “I was a stupid kid! I thought I could pawn it off. Instead the bastard sold me out and I was thrown in jail. There was talk of killing me, cutting off my hands, you know…”

Juliette did not know that. She was unaware of most police proceedings, especially on foreign land. She had been rich enough it was not a worry; it was something she did not have to consider. Enough money could buy freedom from anyone, including the law. Now of course she realized the flaw of that.

“But I got off easy,” Miguel said. “I was seventeen then, if I had been older, they would have killed me!”

“How long were you kept?” Juliette asked.

“Ah… a year, give or take,” Miguel said. “My sentence was a decade, but I escaped with a group. They were not keen on me, but I convinced them of my worth. We split up once we were out and I went home… but it was gone. We did not have much, but everything was destroyed. My mother and sister were buried together, shot by some men looking for my father.”

“I am sorry,” Juliette said. “That is terrible.”

“We all have our stories, don’t we?” Miguel asked.

He leaned back in his chair, his mood strangely lifting.

“Most people like us do not come here for pity,” Miguel reasoned. “We all came to start over, to find a new life out here. I found one, I think you have too.”

It was strange then to realize how young Miguel still was. He had to be younger than thirty, and yet here he was. There were moments that Juliette realized how old Miguel seemed for his age, he was experienced and somehow remained unjaded.

“The world is cruel, but there is enough alcohol to drown your anguish,” Miguel chuckled.

“That is… a dangerous philosophy,” Juliette said.

Miguel shrugged.

“At least I still have my hands,” Miguel said. “Hard to be a petty thief without them.”

“Tryin’ to get another bounty?” Daniel grumbled.

Juliette looked up to see Daniel walking over towards them. He sat down beside Miguel, seeming exhausted.

“Long day?” Juliette asked. “I heard you were almost set on fire.”

“Third time,” Daniel growled.

“Third time?” Juliette repeated in astonishment. “What do you two get up to?”

“Only two was with me!” Miguel said defensively. “First was all Daniel.”

Daniel rolled his eye in irritation. Miguel set his arm around Daniel’s shoulders, leaning into him with a smirk. He held out his beer towards him.

“Have a drink and you’ll be in a better mood,” Miguel suggested.

Daniel accepted the drink but shrugged Miguel’s arm away with a scowl. It was hard to tell how close they truly were sometimes, Daniel put on a good show acting as if he hated Miguel.

“Didn’t even get paid for it,” Daniel said as he took a drink.

“But we have a new story,” Miguel reminded.

“Stories don’t feed us,” Daniel grumbled.

Juliette looked around the saloon to see more and more people walk in. She stood up, deciding it was better to get out before it got busier. She gathered her papers.

“I will see you both later,” Juliette said. “Please, do not drink too much.”

“Don’t plan to,” Daniel agreed. “Gotta tend to the horses still.”

“I make no promises,” Miguel said.

Juliette walked out of the saloon and towards Fleur. She patted her neck gently, before guiding her away. They did not make it far before Juliette decided to stop by the post office. Talking with Miguel had made up her mind, she wanted to go. She was playing into some kind of a trap, but she knew then that hoping they would forget about her was not an option. Juliette needed to declare that this was the end of their business relationship permanently, there was no hope of her returning. Juliette was unsure if there was another relationship to salvage, she would hope to be able to at least talk to Marie after this… and truthfully, Edmond as well.

Edmond was a strange case. They had been friends since they were young, their families close. It was planned that the would be engaged if things went well, and their families took their friendship as a good sign. Juliette was afraid Edmond had listened too much to them, saw something different. For her nothing changed when they attended galas together. Marie reassured her it would when the ring was presented, but still nothing changed. Juliette may have gone through with the wedding if not for Camille. She was positive now because of Arthur she had made the right choice. The journey from Europe to America was long, long enough she could second guess her choice. She had wondered if she was being selfish, extreme.

Juliette wrote a letter back in response to everyone she had been ignoring for weeks. She certainly felt guilty for avoiding them now, Marie had grown worried. Juliette handed over the letters late but was able to convince the man behind the counter to take them.

She hung around Rhodes later than she planned, hoping to run into Arthur. She had no luck, but instead got to see Miguel get thrown out of the saloon. Instantly Juliette stood up and started towards him. A burly man with a nasty look on his face walked out of the saloon’s door. Survival would argue Juliette turn around, but she did not. Miguel scrambled back, a cloud of dust swarming around him. Juliette looked around for Daniel, but he was no where to be seen.

The man snarled at Miguel harshly, his words slurred, and his accent heavy enough Juliette could hardly understand him. There was not much bargaining she could do.

“Ah, Juliette!” Miguel said.

Blood glistened against his mouth, a bruise forming on his face. He had started a fight.

“Here to see me win?” As he chuckled more blood splattered from his mouth.

“Quiet,” Juliette said.

She moved between Miguel and the man. The man continued towards them but walked slower. Juliette reached towards her pistol, hoping desperately she would not have to shoot anyone in the middle of town.

“Move outta the way, darlin’,” the man growled.

“Turn around before you get yourself killed,” Juliette returned. “Is he worth it?”

The man didn’t seem to register what she said until seconds after she finished speaking. He laughed and Juliette frowned. She found her gun, keeping it hidden. If he did step forward, she would shoot him.

“I’m a nice man,” the man said. He sounded incredibly intoxicated, and his swaying helped prove it.

As he stumbled forward Juliette began to move, but before she could aim a voice called out.

“Reconsider, friend,” the voice threatened lowly.

The voice was only vaguely familiar, but Juliette did not dare turn her gaze away from the man. He stared down the stranger, before finally shaking his head with a growl.

“He ain’t worth this much trouble,” The man grumbled before turning and heading back up the steps.

Juliette watched him closely. As the door swung closed, Juliette returned her pistol to its holster. She turned to face the next issue and grimaced. Before her stood the man from weeks ago she had seen riding. One of Arthur’s gang members. His hair was greasy, dark, and fell to his shoulders. His most identifying feature was the shallow claw marks across his cheek. He was watching Juliette uncertainly, as if he did not know how to react to her.

“What do you want?” Juliette asked in a flat voice.

“Want?” he repeated in a startled tone. “I don’t want nothin’.”

“Excellent,” Juliette said.

She offered Miguel a hand and he accepted it. She tried to pull him to his feet, but Miguel hardly budged. He cackled on the floor, amused by something. Juliette let go of his hand and let him fall flat against the ground, red dust clouded around him and he started to cough.

“_Why did I help you?” _Juliette questioned in Spanish, unwilling to let Arthur’s gang member overhear them. Spanish was the most likely second language for him to know, but Juliette was betting he did not know it. His confused look confirmed her theory.

“_You did not tell me you spoke Spanish!” _Miguel exclaimed. “Juliette! _How could you?” _

Juliette frowned down the man still standing nearby.

“What?” Juliette asked. “It is not polite to stare.”

“I know,” he said defensively. “I ain’t-“ he let out an aggravated huff. It was as if he was unused to conversation with strangers. He seemed to want to say something, but couldn’t figure out how. “He’s a handful, let me help-“

“No,” Juliette said simply. “I would much prefer you go away.”

“I-“ he turned and rubbed at his face, swearing lowly. He faced her again and said, “Look I ain’t lookin’ for trouble-“

“What are you looking for then?” Juliette demanded.

“Shoot him in the foot!” Miguel laughed.

The man’s gaze flickered from Miguel to Juliette uneasily, as if he expected Juliette to do it. She was not _above _shooting him, but she wanted to avoid it if she could. Mostly because of Arthur, but she also did not like shooting people if she could help it. Plenty of people died already, she did not need to add to the body count.

“Just lookin’ for information-“ he stopped as Juliette’s gaze shifted. After a moment he continued, “Just conversation, nothin’- nothin’ bad.”

“Who are you?” Juliette asked.

“John Marston,” Miguel supplied before John could respond. “He is wanted dead or alive in Blackwater! Has a pricy bounty in Valentine still.”

John glared at Miguel. There was little chance Juliette was interested in speaking to him, but that look did not help. She was well aware he was only talking to her because she had been with Arthur that day, there was a chance anything she said would hurt Arthur in someway. She did not want to risk that; she knew how hard Arthur was trying to help his gang. She did not want her to be a reason to ruin that. 

“And yet he is still bold enough to talk in front of a bounty hunter,” Juliette said.

John eyed her warily.

“He ain’t exactly in a state to get me,” John grumbled.

“You don’t know that!” Miguel said. He sat up and smirked at John. “I have done many great things drunk.”

“What’s going on?” Daniel’s voice called.

Juliette glanced over to see him appear from the general store. He walked over to Miguel’s side, his hand on his gun, his gaze set on John in a harsh glare.

“Lookin’ for trouble Marston?” Daniel asked.

“I ain’t-“

“Get moving then or you’ll find it,” Daniel threatened.

Miguel’s smirk grew. He looked all to smug for someone covered in dust and on the ground. John’s gaze flickered between the three of them slowly, his irritation growing.

“I ain’t tryin’ ta-“ he began.

“Don’t matter,” Daniel reasoned. “None of us want to talk to you. Unless you want tie your hands and take a ride back to Blackwater, get goin’.”

John glowered for a moment, before finally stalking off. They watched him leave until he reached a dark brown horse.

“I left you alone two minutes,” Daniel said.

He held a hand to Miguel and Miguel took it. Easily Daniel hefted him to his feet and Miguel smiled, pleased. He brushed himself off with Daniel’s help.

“I thought I told you not to drink too much,” Juliette sighed.

“I didn’t listen!” Miguel chuckled. “The night was young, Juliette!” 

“And now you are bleeding,” Juliette reasoned.

She wanted to be madder, but she could not help but smile at his antics. He would be an exhausting travel partner, but Daniel seemed to handle him well.

“Thanks for saving his ass,” Daniel said to Juliette.

Miguel set an arm around Daniel’s shoulders, and Daniel held onto his wrist to steady him. Miguel’s smile grew. Juliette was getting the feeling he liked to be saved by Daniel a little too much.

“Of course, he seemed to have picked the wrong fight,” Juliette said.

“I could have taken him,” Miguel argued.

Juliette shook her head in disbelief.

“What did that idiot want?” Daniel asked.

“Marston?” Juliette questioned and Daniel nodded rigidly. “I do not know. I can only assume he had questions about Arthur, but…”

“Didn’t tell him anything?”

“No,” Juliette said. “I am not that foolish nor that trusting.”

“Good,” Daniel agreed. “He can’t want anything good.”

Juliette was unsure what he wanted then. He could have cornered her sooner and demanded answers, or held a gun to her or Miguel, but he did not. He approached them seemingly to their defense, as unwelcome as it was. She sighed. Her mind was already filled with enough questions, she did not need the addition from Marston.

She said her farewells to both Miguel and Daniel before returning to Fleur. Not wanting to run into anyone else, they left.

It was not until days later that Juliette ventured through Rhodes again. Her intent was only to pass through, it was a more direct route to where she was heading. As things always did in Rhodes, her plans went awry. She made it halfway through when she heard a desperate voice.

Juliette halted Fleur and looked around. A man was staring at a grate in the wall of the gunsmith’s basement. Hands were curled around the bars from the inside, pale as if they had not seen sunlight in weeks.

“I’m not getting involved with this,” the man standing outside said.

He bustled off without hesitation and Juliette frowned after him. She dismounted Fleur and guided her off the path enough to be out of the way.

“_Stay, my love,” _Juliette murmured in French.

She was aware Fleur would not understand, but did not intend to take long. She wandered towards the grate and kneeled down to peer inside. The hands had vanished and the room below was dimly lit, making it near impossible to see into it.

“Hello?” Juliette called, feeling awfully foolish talking to a dark room.

“Yes! Yes, I’m here! Hello!” the desperate voice began again.

Juliette heard the rattling of chains and a pale face appeared on the other side of the grates. A young man stared back at her, with a gaunt complexion, curly dark hair, and wide brown eyes.

“You have to help me! He’s insane!”

“Who is?” Juliette questioned. “Are you chained?”

“Yes, yes I am!” he said in a panic. “He has me locked up! I don’t even know his name!”

His voice grew more and more panicked as he started to ramble faster, picking up speed until his words were strung together in an impossible to decipher mess. Juliette shook her head. She was good at translating quickly, but even someone who only spoke English would struggle with this.

“Slow down,” Juliette said. “I cannot understand you when you talk that fast.”

“R-right,” he said. “I’m sorry, miss.”

“Why does he have you locked up?” Juliette asked.

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “I ain’t from here! I was just passing through! I wanted a gun to protect myself, a-and I don’t remember! I think he hit me over the head? Next thing I knew I was in shackles in some guy’s basement!”

“How long have you been there?” Juliette asked.

How often had she passed by without noticing?

“I- I rightfully don’t know,” he admitted. “Hard to tell, couple weeks, maybe? I don’t got no family, no one to look for me. Folks I can get to listen just ignore me! You’ll help me, won’t you? What am I saying! No one helps-“

“I will get you free,” Juliette promised. “But do not call out to anymore strangers, if the man keeping you hears he may react poorly.”

His eyes widened to saucers and he started to ramble again, his voice becoming panicked. Juliette sighed. She could not blame him, he seemed young and scared. Still, it was frustrating.

“I will be back,” Juliette promised.

Juliette did not particularly want to get more involved than she had to, and the town did have local law enforcement. She greatly overestimated how useful they would be and frankly how competent they were. It took her fifteen minutes to get the sheriff on the correct topic, but even after that he kept going off on tangents. For what felt like the hundredth time that conversation, Juliette interrupted him to get back to the man trapped in the basement.

“There is a locked man in his basement! Are you truly going to continue talking about a moonshine raid instead of helping him? He is being held against his will-“

“Calm down, ma’am,” the sheriff said in a sardonic tone. “I’ll send out one of the deputies later this week, does that sound good?”

“You are content with leaving him trapped down there until then?” Juliette demanded.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I truly am, but we’re spread so thin. Only so much we can do,” he said.

He wasn’t even looking at her anymore, but instead had started towards one of the deputies lazing on the porch.

“Yes, I can see you are all very hard at work,” Juliette said scathingly.

“Thank you for understanding ma’am,” the sheriff said, as if he hadn’t even heard her.

“Such a pleasure,” Juliette said with a scowl.

She should not have expected much from him. He had made a bad first impression on her the first time they met, back when she had been shot. Juliette started off the porch, but hesitated as she reached the bottom step. She looked back to the sheriff.

“Have you… seen deputy Callahan lately?” Juliette asked.

Juliette tried desperately to keep her tone level.

“Deputy Callahan?” the sheriff repeated with a smile. “Well I thought I recognized you, you’re his lady friend-“

Instantly Juliette’s expression changed, her eyes narrowing, and her lips curling into a frown. _Lady friend. _She hated the sound of that, despised it.

“We are friends,” Juliette agreed thinly.

“I haven’t seen him in quite a while, not since he helped with that moonshine operation I was talkin’ about, got us all out of a real bind, huh fellers?”

The deputies around him nodded in agreement. Of course, the sheriff was useless again. Juliette should have expected nothing, but she had been hoping for _something. _If not help with rescuing the man, at least some information. She had not seen Arthur in a while, truthfully it had only been days, but she was used to seeing him regularly since he had been injured. She hated how badly she wanted to see him again, but it was her reality.

“Yes, well I was sure he would be able to help with this,” Juliette lied.

He would be able to help, but she simply wanted to see him.

She left before they could dive into another time-consuming story. She did not like them and they smelled strongly of tobacco. This town was dreadful, and she hated every second of it. Juliette was learning Rhodes would always destroy her plans.

Juliette started towards the gun store, still uncertain what her new plan was. As she was thinking it over, she heard footsteps behind her. She did not bother to check who it was, the sheriff was not useful.

“Juliette, wasn’t it?” An all too familiar gravelly voice called.

Juliette let out an annoyed sigh and turned to face John Marston walking towards her.

“That is correct,” Juliette said thinly.

“Real sorry to bother you-“

“If you were, you would stop doing it,” Juliette snapped.

He did not say anything and Juliette rubbed at her eyes tiredly.

“Monsieur Marston, my patience is run thin right now,” Juliette said. “I had forgotten how infuriating small-town politics is.”

She started back towards the gun store and he followed after her.

“I understand,” he said hurriedly. “I just want to talk-“

“And I do not,” Juliette said simply.

He seemed lost for words. Had he not anticipated her being unwilling to talk with him? Or was he simply this unused to talking with someone outside of his gang? He was far from convincing, Juliette found him annoying.

“It has been a _pleasure,_” Juliette said. “But I have some business to attend to.”

“I-I understand that, ma’am,” he began uncertainly. “I just want a moment of your time.”

“You already have taken plenty of my time,” Juliette said curtly.

She continued on her way and John followed.

“Yeah, but,” John began frustratedly. “Could I buy you a drink or somethin’?”

“I am not keen on drinking in the middle of the day.”

“Tonight then,” John snapped. “Or tomorrow night.”

“I will not be here tonight nor tomorrow, is that all?” Juliette asked irritably.

“No,” John grumbled. “Just give me a moment, ma’am, I promise I ain’t-“

“Monsieur I do not particularly care what your motives are,” Juliette interrupted.

He stared at her in utter frustration, as if she were the most difficult person he’d encountered. As Juliette reached Fleur, she rummaged through her saddlebags and pulled out her pistol. She had returned it to her saddlebag after spending time away from the town. John watched her uneasily.

“You ain’t gonna shoot me, are you?” he asked.

“No,” Juliette said with a slight smile. “You are not worth the bullet.”

“Thanks,” John muttered.

She studied him for a moment. He looked unfriendly enough to scare a store owner into opening their cellar. He stared back at her uneasily, well aware she was scheming something.

“Have you ever robbed a gun store?” Juliette asked.

“What?!” he asked incredulously. “You’re joking? I ain’t that stupid.”

“How desperate are you to talk then?” Juliette asked as she turned on him.

John looked from her to the gun store. He turned his back on her and swore lowly. Did he not want to swear in front of her? She had heard far worse, but it was an interesting sentiment. He turned around again and let out a long breath.

“Fine,” he growled. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Really?” Juliette asked in surprise.

He glared at her and Juliette chuckled. If he were willing to get shot in this venture, Juliette could offer _some _information. Not much, certainly not enough to get Arthur in trouble. 

“Reckon I ain’t got anything better to do,” John growled. “If I die for this-“

“You’ll kill me?” Juliette mused. “I would like to see that.”

His glare harshened and Juliette chuckled.

“I am starting to enjoy talking to you,” Juliette said.

“I’m regretting it,” John said under his breath.

“I can live with that,” Juliette said.

John grumbled lowly enough she could not understand him. She led the way up the steps to the gun store and John pulled a bandana over his face. He stared at her for a moment.

“Not covering your face?” he asked.

“If this goes right, he should not be able to go to the cops,” Juliette said. “Not that you are worried about bounties.”

“I think I hate you,” John said.

“The feeling is mutual,” Juliette reassured.

She checked the window to see who was inside and saw only the clerk. That was good, she did not want to make this any worse. She walked back to the door and pushed it open. Instantly the clerk looked up at her. Juliette’s gaze drifted to his hands to see they were both on the counter, no gun in sight. That of course did not mean there was not one under the counter.

John followed behind her, his gun drawn and instantly the clerk’s eyes narrowed. He had not been scared of her pistol, but John was frightening.

“Hands up,” John instructed in a tone that made it clear he had done this hundreds of times.

She hated that. She hated how easy this was for him, how completely his expression changed. It was as if he was a completely different person, the same as Arthur had in Valentine. It was terrifying how people could just change like that. She wondered if she had looked like that.

“Empty the-“ John began harshly.

“Unlock the cellar,” Juliette interrupted coldly.

“Wh-what?” the clerk asked in bewilderment. “There ain’t nothin’ down there!”

“I would like to see that for myself,” Juliette said simply. “Is that an issue?”

The man made no movement.

“You heard her,” John said menacingly.

“Well?” Juliette asked as she walked forward.

John followed; his gun pointed directly at the clerk. Juliette set her pistol on the counter and leaned her hands against it, staring down the clerk.

“We do not have much time,” Juliette assured. “Make your choice quickly and correctly or you will face a dire punishment. You will not waste my time.”

His gaze drifted to John.  
“Do not look at him, look at me,” Juliette said sharply. “You are running out of time.”

“Alright, alright,” he said finally.

Truthfully, Juliette was surprised that worked. She had threatened a lot of people, but the owner of a gun store was a new one. He moved towards the door and shuffled through his keys. She watched him, turning to keep a close eye on him. He fumbled with the lock, the pressure of guns pointed at him evidently too much. Ironic for someone who sold guns to people like John.

“It is not difficult to unlock a door,” Juliette reminded. “I do not like to wait.”

His hand was shaking slightly. Juliette wondered if he had ever been robbed before. He lived in a terrible place, surely he had been robbed on the street before. She would feel bad about this if there was not someone locked in his basement.

The lock opened with a click and he slowly pulled it open to reveal a set of stairs leading down into the dark room.

“Step away from it,” Juliette said.

The man obediently moved as he glared at her. She glanced to John and his gaze was fixed on the clerk, like a predator eyeing its prey.

“Keep an eye on him,” Juliette instructed.

John nodded.

She headed across the store, keeping a careful eye on the clerk. He made no movements, but instead watched her with a look of panic in his eyes.

“Don’t take him from me, please,” he whispered.

Juliette ignored him and started down the steps. As she reached the bottom, she entered a small dark room, with kids’ toys strewn about. It was made of cobblestone, some glistening with water. The young man she’d seen earlier was on a small bed, his eyes wide in fear.

“Y-you came!” he exclaimed. “Get me out of here, quick! He has me chained!”

Juliette nodded. She could see the chain connected to the wall, secured in. There was no easy way to break it besides shooting it. She frowned as she glanced around for a better option. There was none.

“Move back,” Juliette said.

He nodded instantly and moved as far as the chain would allow him. Juliette aimed for where the chain connected and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed in the room and she could hear movement upstairs. John snarled something and the movement stopped. He was a good guard dog, evidently.

“Oh, thank God!” the man said. He sounded close to tears. How long had he been down here?

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Juliette said.

He nodded and Juliette the way up the stairs. As she reached the top of the stairs, she spotted the clerk on his knees behind the counter. She looked at John with a frown and he shrugged. Juliette wanted to ask what he had done but was unwilling to give the clerk the opportunity to gain the upper hand. Instead she remained quiet. 

“Please don’t leave me,” the clerk whispered as he spotted them. “I know it was wrong! I just- I miss him so much! My- my son, he-he drowned, I just… I miss him!”

“And this is the solution?” Juliette asked in disgust.

She was aware what it was like to lose someone. Falling victim to quick solutions was easy, but this was extreme.

“I know it was wrong,” the clerk repeated miserably. 

He started to shake, setting his head in his hands. Juliette stared at him for a moment in dismay. She shook her head with a small sigh.

“Get out of here,” Juliette said to the young man.

He nodded and bolted past John for the door.

“Get yourself some help,” Juliette said to the clerk. “Professional. At the very least, do not kidnap someone to avoid your own misery.”

He whimpered pitifully but did not say anything. Juliette did not particularly know how to help him, despite her inclination to try. There was nothing more to do, he simply had to figure this out himself. If he kidnapped someone else, he would end up behind bars. Preferably he would be arrested now, but the inept law enforcement refused to do anything besides drink.

Juliette headed out of the store; her own gun lowered. John followed, keeping his gun on the man. She holstered her pistol.

“I do not think he will shoot,” Juliette reasoned.

“Can’t be too careful,” John muttered.

As the door closed behind them, John put his gun back in its holster. He pulled his bandana down.

“What the hell was that?” John growled. “Didn’t even take the money?”

“Still want a drink?” Juliette asked tiredly.

John stared at her a long moment before nodding.

“Excellent,” Juliette said.

She led the way towards the saloon, a part of her frustrated she would have made an appearance in it twice in the same week. Despite that, she had made a deal. She was not one to go back on a deal. John fell into step beside her. He smelled awful.

Juliette really missed Arthur.

“You don’t really look the type to be pullin’ guns on folk,” John said. “If you don’t mind me sayin’.”

“You already said it,” Juliette reasoned. “But no, typically I am not… but with negligent sheriffs, apparently it is a requirement. Well that and the occasional shoot out caused by outlaws.”

John shot her an annoyed look.

“Keep bringin’ that up, don’t chu?” John asked with a scowl.

“What else would you like for me to talk about? Blackwater?” Juliette questioned.

That was the one Miguel mentioned, but she was sure there were others he was involved in. She knew John was not the leader and probably had as little say in shoot outs as Arthur, but she was angry. And he was easy to blame.

“You were in Valentine then,” John grumbled.

“Yes,” Juliette agreed.

“You know I wasn’t the only one,” John snarled.

John let out a frustrated breath. He walked ahead of Juliette to open the saloon door. He held it open for Juliette and Juliette pulled open the other door.

“You really like bein’ difficult don’t chu?” John demanded.

“Sometimes,” Juliette agreed. “In the wrong company.”

“Hmph.”

They both ordered a drink and Juliette retreated to the same back table as before. John followed slowly, his gaze shifting across the room. Juliette took a long drink as John approached.

“Who were you looking for?” Juliette asked. “Get in a bar fight?”

“Not exactly,” John muttered. “Don’t really trust those friends of yours.”

“And I do not trust yours,” Juliette said.

John sat down across from her.

“Y’know I wasn’t alone in Valentine, Arthur was there too,” John said in aggravation.

“Shifting the blame?” Juliette scoffed. “I am aware who was there, Marston. I saw Morgan there.”

“Morgan?” John repeated with a frown. “You ain’t- you’re friendly with Arthur ain’t you?”

“What is your definition of friendly?” Juliette questioned. “We have worked together before.”

John studied her, seemingly unable to read her. Juliette was good at keeping an emotionless expression, she knew how to keep her tone level. She had to do it a lot in France and of course pretend to have emotions she did not.

“Why don’t you like me?” John asked bitterly.

“Do I need a reason?” Juliette asked. “Well, of course besides you shooting up a town-“

“You were nice to Arthur after that, and your friends with that damn idiot,” John said pointedly.

“They do not want anything from me,” Juliette said simply.

She glanced around the saloon idly. She was almost grateful Arthur was not around, it would be more difficult to avoid John’s questions with him. Some part of her wanted Miguel or Daniel to walk in and interrupt this, make it harder for John to interrogate her.

“I don’t want nothin’,” John protested.”

Juliette gave him an annoyed look and John sighed in frustration.

“I just want information, that’s all,” he said begrudgingly.

“And you think I have it?”

“It’s about you, I’d hope you’d have it,” John said.

“And why are you interested in that?” Juliette asked. “You hardly know me.”

John gathered himself, clearly trying not to swear again. Getting under his skin was rather easy, she was hardly even trying. Being this trying to an outlaw was not the smartest choice she had made, but she was fairly certain he would not shoot her. He wanted something from her, her bleeding out was not beneficial to him.

“It ain’t like that,” John said. “I just- you know Arthur.”

“And? What does that matter to you?” Juliette questioned. “Are you checking up with everyone Morgan has ever spoke to? You will have to speak with the bounty hunters-“

“I don’t- I mean… it does matter, it’s just… complicated,” John finally said.

Juliette stared at him and he sighed again.

“Look I ain’t good at this,” John said. “I ain’t tryin’ to test your patience or nothin’… I know you want nothin’ to do with me, I just want to know is all.”

“Why is this important?” Juliette asked. “Why was it important enough to rob a gun store?”

“I mean, it ain’t, I reckon,” John grumbled. “I feel like I should know and I don’t.”

“Why should you know?” Juliette asked with a small frown.

She took a drink from her glass but could not taste the alcohol. It coated her tongue thickly. She was not as partial to alcohol as others, she only appreciated it on occasion. She wondered how Miguel could drink it so often. John took a drink from his beer, his shoulders slumping.

“We’re supposed to be like brothers,” John mumbled.

There it was, finally. It had taken a long time for him to admit, but there it was.

Juliette was learning more and more these people needed someone to talk to. She was not the person to solve these personal issues, she was not trained and frankly did not care much. Juliette was already exhausted of this. He was an outlaw and a grown man, not a child in a fight with his brother. Had he grown up in the gang like Arthur? Perhaps he had never learned how to resolve these issues. Growing up like that had to cause plenty of issues.

“That does not mean you are entitled to information,” Juliette said.

“I know that,” John said. “It’s just weird, alright? It’s like he’s go this whole other life I know nothin’ about.”

“Have you tried asking him?” Juliette asked.

She took another drink. This was childish. Could he not simply talk to Arthur?

“We ain’t… exactly on speaking terms,” John admitted lowly.

Juliette let out a long breath.

“So you decided to hunt down his friends?” Juliette asked.

“You are his friend then?” John asked.

“Yes, yes I am a friend of his,” Juliette said. “Do not take it personally, I am sure he has is reasons.”

“Did you save him?” John asked.

Juliette did not look at John, but instead kept her gaze on the door. She turned the glass in her hand.

“How’d you know he was down there?”

“There was a grate on the side of the building, the boy was calling for help,” Juliette said.

“That ain’t what I’m-… why did you help him then? He didn’t do anything for you,” John said. “Ran off the second he was free.”

“Does that matter?” Juliette asked. “No one else would have helped him, he needed someone.”

Her gaze was distant for a moment before she finally looked back at John. He was watching her closely and she knew he understood what she meant. He had needed help and she was there. She hadn’t meant it as a slight against him… maybe she did. She didn’t know anymore. It frustrated her that he was in a gang and they hadn’t even bothered to save him, let alone look for him. If they were like brothers, John should have saved him. They both knew it.

“I didn’t know,” John said.

“Neither did I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> juliette takes a break from her day job of photography to rob a gun store, as you do  
i decided very early on jules would not like john and he wouldn't like her either and i like the dumb dynamic of it  
jules has also become the unpaid therapist and hates her job  
but anyway! i hope you guys liked the chapter!! i weirdly really like writing juliette being mean just bc it fleshes her out some and shows that side of herself she's not real proud of  
oh ! and jules is bi!! Idk how clear it was early on (I know Camille was referred to in a vaguer way) but yea! when i first made juliette way back (god it's been a year) she didn't have a defined sexuality or anything bc she was just a for the hell of it oc but as i started to develop her and Camille became a character I really just wanted Jules to be bi so she is :') I also sorta like the themeing aspect of Arthur and Juliette both having a lost love and kid (both different senses, Arthur loved Mary even tho she is manipulative af and Felix isn't Juliette's, but she treated him like her own. It's sort of hinted at as Eliza being a one night stand and nothing more, but still!). I want Juliette to be a foil to Arthur in a lot of senses, and share experiences despite their different backgrounds


	24. In the Lion's Den

Arthur was starting to hate gang life. There were certain things that made it worthwhile, but lately it seemed like they were wasting their time. Dutch kept goin’ on about the gold both families supposedly had. They might have it, but it seemed like they were going through a whole hell of a lot of trouble for it. Robbing banks was less tedious than this nonsense. While Arthur was as Dutch kept putting it ‘away’, they continued the scheme. Playing both sides seemed dangerous, but Dutch didn’t seem to care much. Talking to Dutch was a lot like talking to a brick wall, then again, a brick wall wouldn’t interrupt him constantly.

He didn’t like seeming disloyal or uninterested in the gang, he was loyal, and he wanted to keep people safe. He was just growing weary of the same shenanigans. Micah and Bill kept running off to try stir the pot between the two families.

John had mostly left Arthur alone since Arthur had returned. John still eyed him up and watched him from a distance, making it clear he still had words he wanted to exchange. Arthur focused less on him, letting him skulk in the shadows. Jack seemed mighty happy to have Arthur around again, even more happy Arthur wasn’t avoiding him. After arguing with John in Valentine Arthur had taken more care to not overstep. Now he didn’t care. If John weren’t going to be a father to his own son, the least Arthur could do was say good morning to the poor kid.

Arthur avoided missions that required guns, left mostly alone with Hosea’s help. Hosea kept reminding Dutch that Arthur had been through an ordeal and needed time to recover. They were all aware Arthur had recovered plenty, but just didn’t want to do it. Hosea seemed more content with that then Dutch.

Arthur had started to hunt with Charles again, when he could. Other days Dutch sent him out on chores, most of which Arthur was starting to find less frustrating. Hosea decided to go with him one afternoon.

They hooked up two larger shires to a wagon and called their horses to follow. They had both learned the hard way that it was better to bring along their own horses, just in case something went wrong. More and more things seemed to.

“Are you mad at Dutch?” Hosea questioned once they were a safe distance from camp.

Arthur looked over at him wearily and shrugged.

“Not happy with him,” Arthur admitted with a grumble. “Ain’t like he missed me much.”

“You know how he gets,” Hosea sighed.

“Hmph.”

There was a lot of excuses for Dutch. Arthur heard all of them, from Hosea, Bill, and Javier. He was starting to get exhausted by it. The newer members of the gang didn’t defend Dutch nor did they try to convince Arthur what a saint Dutch was. Sadie and Charles became a breath of fresh air around camp.

Again, Hosea sighed tiredly. He coughed into his arm and Arthur looked over at him.

“Don’t sound like that’s gettin’ any better, Hosea,” Arthur commented.

“I’m getting older, Arthur,” Hosea chuckled.

He said it as if age was an infliction, just as bad as a disease. Maybe it was, but Arthur figured he’d gotten better with age. He wasn’t as reckless as he was, and he liked to think he was a little wiser. Juliette’s words murmured in the back of his head; _you are far more intelligent than you let on. _He wasn’t sure how right she was on that, but she was smarter than him. That had to count for… somethin’.

“Are you going to tell me her name?” Hosea asked.

Arthur frowned, his gaze retreating to the road ahead. He fixed his eyes steadily on the horizon, this wasn’t a subject Arthur was keen on opening up on. He’d kept quiet around camp where he’d been, despite the endless questions. There wasn’t a single person in camp that didn’t ask, little Jack included. 

“Arthur, I have known you for a long time,” Hosea reminded. “I think I would know when you’re distracted. You were like this with Mary too.”

Arthur shrugged. He’d gotten away with Eliza, no one in the gang knew about her still. When he’d met her, it had only been for a night, nothing more. When she got pregnant it was a surprise to them both. He’d been a coward and a fool, not taking the proper responsibility. Instead he only checked in a couple times a month, then steadily less and less. When Isaac and she died, John had abandoned the gang. He’d provided Arthur some cover to grieve quietly, without anyone pestering him. Everyone was focused on John instead. Maybe he should thank John for that. He couldn’t handle the recovery process with everyone over his shoulder, shooting him pitying glances. Being treated like normal made him want to be normal.

Some part of Arthur had changed after that day. He took on more responsibility, the realization of how quickly it was over finally dawned on him. All his life he’d been surrounded by death. Both his parents and plenty of their gang had died along the way. Bessie was still the one that struck him the hardest out of the gang, only because of Hosea. Hosea spent a year with any kind of alcohol he could get his hands on. He wasn’t the same person then. He came back eventually, and Arthur didn’t understand what had happened until he lost Isaac. If Arthur could’ve spent a year drunk, he probably would have. Drunk and angry. Instead the gang needed him, the workload increased, and Arthur poured every part of himself into it.

“How many more people we gonna lose, Hosea?” Arthur asked. “We lost plenty already back in Blackwater, now we’re in the middle of a feud we don’t have any part of?”

Hosea let out a long breath.

“I know, Arthur,” Hosea finally said. “It hasn’t been an easy year-“

“Easy year,” Arthur scoffed. “Hosea that’s not the half of it. We lost too many back there, you know it as well as I do. Then we go and stir up shit in Valentine, now Rhodes?” Arthur shook his head. “I don’t see the point in all this, no more, I reckon.”

“We cannot exactly put down are guns and start a more respectable life,” Hosea reminded. “We’re all wanted men, whether we like it or not. Pinkertons are after us-“

“So we’re gonna play deputy?” Arthur asked with a scowl.

He’d long since removed the badge from his chest. He wasn’t sure he still had it.

“Well… if we’re right about this,” Hosea began uneasily. “There’ll be a lot of money in it for us.”

“And if we’re right and we play it wrong, we still get shot and don’t get shit,” Arthur reminded. “We left a whole lot of money back in Blackwater, whose to say this won’t turn out the same?”

Hosea was quiet a long moment, long enough Arthur thought he’d evaded the question entirely. Next time Hosea spoke, he proved he hadn’t forgotten.

“You are getting better at avoiding questions,” Hosea chuckled. “Just a name, Arthur. Humor an old dying man-“

“You ain’t dyin’ anytime soon,” Arthur said readily.

“No one else has to know,” Hosea reassured. 

Arthur was quiet for a long while, before finally muttering, “Juliette.”

“Juliette,” Hosea said in surprise. “A pretty name.”

Hosea smiled. Arthur didn’t understand how just a name made him content, but he was happy not to get any more questions about her.

“You and John have been getting along rather nice lately,” Hosea said. “Did you threaten him?”

“Threaten him?” Arthur repeated. “Think he’s scared of me anymore?”

Hosea chuckled and shook his head.

“No, I suppose not,” Hosea agreed. “You two have tortured each other plenty as boys. You know I just want the two of you to get along.”

Arthur grumbled under his breath and Hosea let out a short breath. He looked over at Arthur, his gaze slowly evaluating him. Arthur side eyed him for a moment before fixing his gaze forward.

“I think we get along fine,” Arthur muttered. “As long as he keeps his distance.”

Arthur liked their arrangement more now. He didn’t mind John as much if John didn’t talk. Arthur still found him annoying look at, but he was easier to ignore when he kept his mouth shut. Hosea clearly didn’t like it, he wanted them to be like they used to be. Bickering, but still brothers. Arthur wasn’t sure what they were anymore. John hadn’t felt like a brother in a while.

As they rode into Rhodes, Arthur couldn’t stop himself from looking for Juliette or Fleur. Neither were present, but that just might be for the best. He wanted to keep her separate from the gang as much as he could, he didn’t want her getting mixed up in everything. He wasn’t sure he could forgive himself if she did get killed by his own mistakes.

They had to stop by the general store first. Arthur offered to get the mail while Hosea dealt with their supplies, and Hosea agreed. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to talk to the man that owned the store, last time they’d met it hadn’t gone well.

He walked towards the post office and retrieved the mail under their shared name. As he started away, the clerk stopped him.

“Deupty Callahan,” the clerk said. “A package under your own name, if you want it.”

Arthur nodded in surprise and accepted the wrapped parcel.

“Who’s it from?” Arthur asked.

“Dunno,” the clerk said dismissively. “Ain’t here when it was dropped off.”

Arthur considered questioning the man further, but he had already unfurled a newspaper. Arthur shrugged it off and started back towards Hosea. Half of the wagon was filled, with a younger man bringing out the rest. Hosea was waiting near the store. Arthur stowed away the letters and parcel into the wagon, before walking over to Hosea.

“Almost done,” Hosea reassured. “You’ll never believe what I heard. A pair of idiots tried to rob the gun store.”

“The gun store?” Arthur repeated, his gaze shifting over towards it.

He hadn’t noticed anything odd before, but now that he was looking, he noticed the closed sign in the window. It was rather unusual for it to be closed this early, but that was the only oddity. No sign of a gunfight. Usually there was something, dried blood, scattered bullet holes, but there was none of that.

“Who in their right minds would rob a gun store?” Arthur asked.

“Reckon they weren’t,” Hosea admitted. “Seems like they got away with it, from the rumors I’ve heard at least.”

Arthur spotted Miguel and Daniel riding nearby. He eyed them curiously. He didn’t see them as the brightest pair, but he couldn’t picture them robbing a gun store.

“Maybe it was some “O’Driscolls,” Arthur suggested.

“There’s the outlaw,” Miguel greeted.

Arthur grimaced and looked over to see Miguel wander closer.

“Miguel,” Arthur greeted lowly.

“That’s no way to greet a friend!” Miguel chuckled. “Is it, Daniel?”

Daniel ignored them entirely, his gaze set irritably ahead. Arthur wasn’t sure which one he preferred, Miguel’s taunting or Daniel’s angry silence. Arthur still hadn’t figured out why they’d saved him. There hadn’t been any bargaining, once he was saved that was it. If it truly was just a favor, it was quite the favor. Getting shot at was a heavy price.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Hosea greeted.

Arthur glanced back at Hosea; Hosea knew exactly who they were. He was better at exchanging pleasantries with enemies. The pair of bounty hunters weren’t Arthur’s enemy, but Hosea wouldn’t know that. They weren’t exactly friends of the gang neither.

“Is it?” Miguel asked with a slow smirk. “Guess neither of you have a bounty up yet.”

Arthur glared at Miguel, but his smirk only grew. He wasn’t sure why he kept testing his luck, eventually he’d run into someone that wouldn’t react well. Then again, Miguel seemed smarter than that. He seemed to know exactly who to pester, and how far he could push it. Arthur would never do anything to him and would do his best to stop his gang. Miguel knew it.

“A fine afternoon indeed,” Hosea agreed. “Is there a bounty up for those fellers that robbed the gun store?”

“Robbed?” Miguel repeated. “Ain’t robbed. The owner was keeping a man in his basement, chained to the wall! Bounty on his head.”

“Truly?” Hosea asked in bewilderment.

“We were paid,” Miguel said. “That’s all I care about- although, the description of one of the men sounded like one of yours. Talk to wolf scraps.”

Arthur and Hosea exchanged a look. Neither of them had heard a word about it from John. John was stupid, but not _that _stupid. At least Arthur hoped. Before they could question them further, Miguel and Daniel left.

“Friends of yours?” Hosea asked as he turned to Arthur.

“Not exactly,” Arthur said begrudgingly. “They ain’t tryin’ to catch me, all that matters.”

They returned to the wagon and checked over the supplies. Everything had been delivered and was accounted for. All they had to do was bring it to camp. They started back towards the camp, with Whiskey and Silver Dollar tailing behind.

This journey was a lot more peaceful than the one he’d been on with Sadie. Somehow doing chores with her ended in a gunfight. Course he couldn’t really blame her, it was raiders. She was rather frightening when she wanted to be, she had a wild unhinged look in her eyes.

“Have you spoken to the sheriff lately? Bill and Javier did a job for the Braithwaites’ recently. I’m starting to worry the Grays’ are getting wise.”

“I haven’t,” Arthur admitted. “Don’t particularly want to either.”

Hosea nodded and continued, “We need to find the treasure quick and get out of here before we find more trouble.”

“Sounds good,” Arthur agreed.

He didn’t like hanging around Rhodes much. The people were awful and the humid was ungodly.

By the time they returned to camp, it was late afternoon. The camp seemed rather empty; Lenny alerted them a group had gone to rob a carriage. Arthur was pleased by the prospect of some being out of camp, finally it would be quiet. The bad part of it, not many were around to help unload. It was left to Arthur, Lenny, and Sean. It took some time, but eventually they got everything to its proper place. Arthur left the parcel on his bed and got some dinner. He passed by Sean and Lenny again. They were sitting at one of the tables, Lenny attempting to teach Sean how to read. Arthur bit his tongue; well aware Sean would storm off if he commented.

Arthur settled by the fire with his stew. He overheard Hosea interrogating John about the gun store, but he didn’t get many answers. Instead John crept off. Arthur spotted him again skulking around in the corner of Arthur’s sight.

“Hosea ain’t around,” Arthur grunted.

John stared at Arthur a long moment, while Arthur ignored him. Finally, John sat at the fire. He kept fidgeting, just like he had as a kid. Arthur wondered if this was what it was like having a brother. He would die for John, but John also irritated the hell out of him.

“Who told y’all I was involved?” John asked under his breath. 

“Bounty hunters,” Arthur provided. “They overheard us talkin’ about it.”

John thought this over for a while, long enough Arthur stood up and started away. He didn’t care much about whatever John did.

Arthur walked back towards his area and retrieved the parcel. He opened it slowly and was surprised to see a light blue shirt staring back at him. A letter rested on top of it. He opened it to see delicate writing and instantly he knew who had written it.

_Blue suits you, deputy. _

_Until we meet again, _

_ Juliette_

Arthur smiled at her name for a long moment. His thumb grazed the edge of the writing, following the curve of the J. He was entranced enough he didn’t notice Hosea’s gaze on him. Eventually he stowed away the letter into his journal and went to bed.

The next day he left before anyone could stop him, his mind dead set on finding Juliette. Instead of finding her, he stumbled upon a familiar broken-down circus. The owner alerted him one of their lions still had not been found and promised Arthur a reward for it. The last lion Arthur had recovered had been a dog with a fake mane. He obliged and headed off.

He got pointed towards Emerald Ranch after talking to some folks, and found the place was in chaos. Ranch hands were running around like a chicken with its head cut off. He couldn’t get a single one to talk to him.

As he rode further into the ranch, he spotted Fleur. He left Whiskey beside her. He greeted Fleur with a small pat on her neck, before looking around for Juliette. He found her in front of a paddock, her camera set up. She was leaned against the fence, mild curiosity lingering in her gaze. He glanced to where the camera was directed, at a pair of closed barn doors. Two men were holding it shut desperately.

As Arthur approached, Juliette glanced back at him. She smiled and set her gaze onto the barn again.

“What are you waitin’ on?” Arthur asked.

He stopped beside her.

“Rumor has it there is a lion in there,” Juliette said. “I did not think lions were native to America.”

“I ain’t ever found one,” Arthur agreed. “Unless you count a cougar.” 

“This was no cougar, from what I have heard,” Juliette said.

There was plenty of mayhem happening around the ranch, but that didn’t mean lion. Arthur felt confident that this lion would be no different, nothing else at the roadside oddity had been more than a sham. They’d sell a tabby for tiger if they could.

“I don’t want to be the one to ruin things, but there ain’t no lion,” Arthur said. This garnered Juliette’s attention, she looked over at him with an intrigued smile. “Just a dog dressed up ‘s all.”

“A dog?” Juliette repeated in amusement. She looked forward again, her gaze travelling to the two ranch hands holding the barn doors shut. “They seem frightened.”

“Ain’t scary at all.”

“As much as I trust you, Arthur, I am inclined to believe the ranch hands on this,” Juliette said with a small chuckle. “Unless you have proof, I do not think a dog would cause this much trouble.”

“Bet you anything it ain’t a lion,” Arthur said.

“Anything?” Juliette repeated with a slow smile.

Arthur chuckled and nodded in agreement. Even if he was right, he felt ready right then to try and give her whatever she wanted.

“That’s right,” Arthur said. “What would you want?”

“Impossibilities, Arthur,” Juliette said as she let her gaze slide forward once again.

She was staring at the barn once more, but not nearly as attentive as before. Arthur still had her full attention. That was something Arthur still found surprising; he wasn’t used to anyone focusing on him. Plenty of times he’d spoken to people they hardly listened, barely cast him a glance. There had never been a time Juliette hadn’t listened, even when she had been mad at him.

“Try me,” Arthur said with a slight smile. “I’m mighty resourceful, Jules.”

“I know,” Juliette reassured. “I am not challenging you on that.”

“Go on ‘n tell me then,” Arthur persisted. “Ain’t like you’re winnin’ this anyway.”

Juliette looked back at him, a spark of amusement in her eyes.

“You are so sure, and you have yet to see it,” Juliette laughed.

“I know some things,” Arthur said. “I know that’s a dog-“

“It ain’t a dog, mister,” a panicked voice exclaimed.

Arthur looked back to see a younger man standing nearby, holding a pitchfork in his hands. Arthur frowned at him. Even if it was a lion, a pitchfork wasn’t a proper weapon for anything. Arthur glanced to Juliette briefly, frustrated they’d been interrupted. He’d much prefer to watch this play out and see Juliette’s reaction to the dog.

“Could you deal with it?” the ranch hand asked. “You look like you could kill a lion.”

“Yeah, alright,” Arthur said, irritation coursing through his voice. “Gonna feel mighty silly when a Labrador walks out of that damn barn, ain’t you?”

He readjusted his hat as he moved towards the fence. He hopped the fence with ease and started towards the barn. His hand was not resting on his pistol, something Juliette seemed to notice immediately.

“Be careful, Arthur,” Juliette called.

He glanced back at her with a smirk.

“About a dog, Jules? I think I can handle a dog,” Arthur chuckled.

Juliette shook her head in disbelief.

“You better not die for being overly confident,” Juliette said.

Arthur easily waved her off and continued towards the barn. He heard the ranch hand suggest backing up, but Juliette remained. Either she trusted his aim, or she was just as reckless as him. Possibly both.

Both men holding the barn doors shut did look awfully frightened. Arthur wasn’t sure how a dog managed that, unless these two were especially stupid. He’d seen dumber before.

“What’s the ruckus, boys?” Arthur asked, unable to hide his amusement.

“Get back!” One of them said. “We got a cursed creature in here!”

“Oh yeah?” Arthur asked.

“He’s as big as a mule and as mean as a hellcat,” the man insisted.

“It looked like a lion to me,” the other agreed.

This costume must be really convincing to scare this entire damn ranch, the one Arthur had seen wasn’t particularly frightening. He’d call it pathetic, but he reckoned a dog could be pretty mean if it wanted to be.

It took some convincing to get the men to move out of the way and let him in, they pretty convinced the damn thing was a lion. More annoying than anything. When he stepped into the barn, they swiftly closed the doors behind him. The barn itself was housing an old wagon and spare parts. He didn’t see a lion or a dog.

“Here boy,” Arthur called with a whistle.

“Didn’t look like no dog,” one of the ranch hands grumbled begrudgingly.

Arthur rolled his eyes; certain they wouldn’t know a barn cat from a cougar. He just needed to get the dog back to its owners… that might be a bad life for the mutt, a roadside attraction and possible meal for their other exhibits.

“Let’s get you home, boy,” Arthur said as he searched the barn.

A sharp growling sounded followed by a loud crash. Arthur looked up to see a cloud of flour up in the hay loft, as well as broken wood. It looked like it had jumped straight through the closed window. Arthur hurried after it as yells sounded. It wasn’t a dog, that was for sure.

Arthur charged out of the barn, his gaze whipping around for it.

“Where’d it go?” Arthur demanded.

“Arthur, behind you,” Juliette said. 

Arthur turned in time to see the creature stalk out of the shadows, its massive body lowered to the ground as it eyed Arthur. Slowly Arthur backed up. It stood in the middle of the pen, blood dripping from its fangs. It was bigger than a cougar, its eyes dark and filled with rage. Its plumed tail lashed back and forth, its pelt near golden in the sunlight. The mane around its neck made it clear, it was a fucking lion.

A low growl rumbled from it as it creeped forward, its claws digging into the dirt. He reached towards his pistol carefully, suddenly wishing he’d listened more to Juliette and had his gun ready. The lion watched him with a slitted eyes, its ears drawn back as it snarled. The threat was obvious, but he was certain if he turned his back claws would shred through him.

Quick as lightning the lion charged him and Arthur pulled his pistol on it, firing. The lion stumbled back from the shot, shaking its head. It moved back, blood pooling under it. Its gaze was kept on Arthur, now even angrier. It started to circle around Arthur, moving closer towards the fence line where he’d left Juliette.

Arthur lined up one more shot and the lion lurched towards him. With one final bullet, the lion tumbled to the ground before him.

“Christ,” Arthur breathed.

“Are you alright?” Juliette asked, unease settling in her voice.

“Yep,” Arthur agreed.

He put away his pistol and walked back towards her. He glanced back at the lion warily, now far more alert than he had been. Now why hadn’t they mentioned the lion was real? After all the tricks, this one was real. Easily he could’ve been killed by it. That would’ve been a pitiful way to go. Brazenly stupid. Maybe he wasn’t all that different from when he was younger.

“That was the largest dog I have ever seen,” Juliette remarked. “Are they all that large in America?”

Now that she knew he was alright; her tone had shifted drastically. There was no trace of fear remaining, instead humor rung in her voice.

“Ain’t usually that big,” Arthur agreed. “Ain’t usually got sharp claws like that neither. Get a good photograph at least?”

“Hopefully,” Juliette said. “It is not every day you see a lion.”

“We callin’ it a lion again?” Arthur asked with a chuckle.

He stopped outside of the fence, leaning against it to watch Juliette.

“That was no dog!” a ranch hand exclaimed. “It killed three of our cows!”

“That ain’t my fault,” Arthur protested. “I killed the thing, didn’t I?”

The ranch hand surveyed Arthur for a moment, before stalking off towards the lion’s body. A few others were gathered around it, talking lowly.

“Shame it did have to die,” Juliette commented. “Poor thing did not stand a chance here.”

Arthur stared at Juliette uncertainly before saying, “Would’ve killed us if it could.”

“It is a lion, Arthur,” Juliette said. “It cannot help it.”

“Part of a circus, I reckon,” Arthur said. “Got sent out to hunt it down… there other attractions were fake; they didn’t warn me about this one bein’ real.”

“Well, their entire business is selling falsehoods and gimmicks,” Juliette said. “Very few people are daring enough to get in a cage with a lion, to compensate there must be a trick. Not many are daring enough to enter a barn with one.”

“I didn’t think it was one, to be fair,” Arthur chuckled.

He leaned against the fence as Juliette fiddled with her camera.

“I got your gift,” Arthur said. “Ain’t sure how I ended up gettin’ one, you saved me.”

Juliette smiled and said, “That other shirt could not be mended, it was torn to shreds.”

“Reckon it was time,” Arthur admitted. “Had it longer then I’d care to admit.”

Juliette began to pack away her camera and Arthur hopped the fence to help. Whiskey and Fleur took a moment to locate, both had retreated a safe distance from the lion. Couldn’t blame them much, Arthur would’ve done the same.

Arthur decided to alert Margaret later about the fate of his lion. Until then, Arthur was content staying with Juliette.

“You won the bet,” Arthur said. “What d’you want?”

“I already told you, Arthur,” Juliette said with a small shake of her head.

“Might as well tell me,” Arthur reasoned. “I’ve been told I’m stubborn.”

Juliette chuckled and relented, “If you must know… I would want more time with you … without you being mortally wounded, of course.”

“That’d be preferable,” Arthur agreed. “But I might be willing to be shot again for it.”

“You are always welcome to stay with me,” Juliette assured. “You do not have to get shot for it; I would prefer it if you were not injured actually. You are very stubborn even wounded. For a while I was certain you would kill yourself just from your grudge with sitting still.”

“…I’m alive, ain’t I?” Arthur mumbled.

“After a duel with a dog, you are somehow alive,” Juliette agreed.

Arthur groaned and Juliette’s smile returned.

“Back to a dog now is it?” Arthur asked. “How long you gonna remember this?”

“Until the day I die, Arthur,” Juliette said.

“At least I thought it was a dog,” Arthur chuckled. “Ain’t reckless enough yet to want to fight a lion.”

“I am grateful for that,” Juliette said with a small laugh.

They ended up settling west of the ranch, Juliette deciding to photograph a group of bison. Arthur sketched the scene in his journal nearby as well as their encounter with the lion. It was a pleasant day, the breeze cool, with the sun warm overhead. The bison leisurely strolled across the plush hills, hardly casting them a second glance.

Watching them gave him an idea. Hosea had given him a list of creatures to hunt, a white bison being one of them. That would catch Juliette’s attention and he wanted to show it to her. He pulled out the map and studied it. It looked like a day and a half of travel from where they were, two and a half from Rhodes. Arthur considered it a long moment, lost in thought until Juliette spoke. 

“Who is that?” Juliette asked.

Arthur followed her gaze to a distant figure, bow in hand. Even from this distance, Arthur recognized Charles. Taima was easy to distinguish, her spotted pelt unmistakable. Charles met his gaze and Arthur stared levelly back. Out of everyone in the gang, Arthur might trust Charles the most with this secret. Instead of approaching, Charles guided Taima away.

“You know him?” Juliette guessed.

“Yep,” Arthur said.

“Part of your gang or a friend?”

“Both.”

Arthur lingered as Juliette relocated. It took a few invitations, before Arthur did decide to leave with her. He didn’t particularly feel like riding all the way back to camp, and it felt all to right to stay a while longer. As the sky grew darker, Arthur’s resolve to leave weakened. The hours bled into each other, and it became clear he was welcome to stay. Staying was easy, leaving was the hard part.

Eventually he did have to, but he left it as an issue for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! I'm back finally :") I've been thinking a lot about how i want to space out the next few chapters, I have key events in mind, but I've been trying to think how to work them around the game's main story as well and I think I have it figured out? maybe? Honestly this chapter of the game is the one I remember the least, so I've had to do some more research ^^ no complaints here, I adore the game and easily will spend hours looking at old missions  
anyway i hope you guys liked this chapter! this chapter is one of the ones where I thought about it happening purely bc it would be a really photograph for jules's to take that's not just a carbon copy of albert's  
also mention of gun store incident! arthur will eventually learn exactly who was involved, but not for a little while longer c;  
thanks for reading! i hope you liked it <3


	25. A Short Walk in a Pretty Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! sorry it's been so long ;; things have been crazy, but i'm sure that's the same for everyone.

Arthur woke up early but didn’t move. The light filtered in through the tent, cascading gently across Juliette. Her hair seemed golden along the edges in the morning light. She looked younger, not as weary or weathered. They never truly got peaceful moments during the day, each of them took turns looking over their shoulder.

Leaving the next day was difficult, but Arthur only managed it with a promise to return swiftly. He’d decided in the early of the morning, he wasn’t ready to go back to gang life quite yet. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t been for a while. He’d avoided the grittier jobs since he’d last been with Juliette. There had been home robberies, carriage ambushes, and similar jobs offered to him. Arthur kept turning them down. He’d gotten better at saying no, weeks before he never made it a week without bloodshed. He was more aware now of much mayhem they caused for the hell of it.

It was a test of his resolve to force himself to leave Juliette. He had to keep reminding himself he needed to return to camp just long enough to alert Dutch of his plans. Then he could go back. Juliette promised to wait for him, but Arthur didn’t want to make her wait long. He felt bad enough leaving as is. Whiskey wasn’t much help. He was resistant at first to get moving, before finally falling into a steady trot. Anytime Arthur drifted into his thoughts, Whiskey veered off the path. Arthur’s previous horse, Boadicea, hadn’t been nearly as defiant. She’d also been older; he’d had her for several years. Arthur wasn’t the type to change horses monthly, he always found one he liked and kept it as long as he could.

The journey back to the camp felt strangely short, despite the sun showing how long they’d traveled. Arthur guided Whiskey through the path and slowly it got dimmer and dimmer as the trees blocked out the light. He felt cold without the sun on his back. He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

“Mornin’, Arthur,” Javier greeted.

“Mornin’,” Arthur returned with a small nod.

Javier walked past him, continuing on his patrol. Arthur yawned. He left Whiskey by a hitching post, not bothering to take of his tack. They wouldn’t be staying long. He did however give Whiskey a good brush, he always got dusty traveling near Rhodes. It was a dusty town, Arthur still had orange flecks sticking to his boots from the previous visit.

Arthur didn’t spot that many out and about yet. He saw Tilly and Mary Beth across camp carrying a basket of laundry between them. Arthur approached them.

“Howdy, Arthur,” Mary Beth said. “Fancy seein’ you around these parts!”

Arthur chuckled and said, “Need some help carryin’ that? Looks heavy.”

“If I ever say no to that, you’ll know somethin’s surely wrong,” Mary Beth said as she passed off the basket.

Tilly waited a moment to make sure Arthur had it, before letting go of her side.

“You’re cheery,” Tilly commented. “Got big plans?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Arthur admitted.

“Don’t go and get yourself filled with bullets again,” Mary Beth said. “You scared us half to death! You’re the only man in this camp willing to help with laundry!”

“I don’t help much,” Arthur argued.

“You do more than the rest of these fools,” Tilly reassured. “They act like just touching the basket makes them a woman. Sean laughed the other day when Karen tried to talk him into helping.”

“Oh, I thought for sure she’d kill him,” Mary Beth giggled.

Tilly nodded in agreement and said, “It was quite the ordeal, Arthur.”

“Sorry I missed that,” Arthur said. “Sean gets too headstrong-“

“Real rich coming from you, Arthur,” Mary Beth said. “Once you set your mind to something, you’re more stubborn then a mule! Dutch’s lucky you’re on his side.”

“Speakin’ of Dutch, is he around?” Arthur asked.

“I haven’t seen him,” Mary Beth said. “Not this morning, at least. You can try and ask Miss high and mighty O’Shea.”

“Oh, no,” Tilly said with a shake of her head. “She’s mad at Dutch, trying to get him to come to her or something. Ask Hosea, he was talking to Dutch just yesterday.”

Arthur nodded as he considered this. He set the basket down by the wash basin and thanked them both. Carefully Arthur picked his way through the camp, keeping his eye out for Dutch or Hosea. Instead of finding either of them, he saw John sitting by himself.

“You seen Dutch or Hosea?” Arthur asked.

John looked up at Arthur with a frown. He seemed mildly surprised, taking a moment to come up with the simple response of, “Nah.”

Another time Arthur might’ve given him shit for taking so long, but instead Arthur nodded his head and continued his hunt. He had other matters to attend to. Arthur saw just about everyone but Dutch as he searched the camp. Micah was missing as well, and Arthur could only assume Dutch was causing trouble with him. He spent too much time around Micah, but Dutch wouldn’t listen to Arthur much no more. He preferred Micah’s bloodlust more and more.

“Arthur,” Hosea said. “Looking for someone?”

Arthur looked over to see Hosea standing near the edge of the lake, a tin mug in hand. A small trail of steam leaked out of the top, undoubtedly he was drinking coffee.

“Yep, you seen Dutch around?”

“He’s out with Micah and Bill,” Hosea provided. “Talking to the sheriff, if you want to find him.”

Arthur did not want to make the detour to Rhodes, he didn’t like sheriff Gray much. He’d prefer to just go back to Juliette and forget even warning Dutch. Arthur sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes again. This shouldn’t be as tedious a task as it was.

“Can I ask why you’re looking for him?” Hosea asked.

“Gonna be out of camp for a little while,” Arthur admitted.

Hosea studied Arthur, trying to read him. Arthur shifted uncomfortably, all too aware how easily Hosea could see through him.

“Don’t worry about us, enjoy yourself,” Hosea said as he set a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I’ll smooth things over with Dutch when he gets back to camp.”

“You ain’t tryin’ to get rid of me, are you?” Arthur asked slowly.

This felt too easy. Usually getting away from the gang for more than a few days caused plenty of grief. Only time he’d gotten away with it was when he’d gone hunting with Hosea, and even then, he’d gotten snide comments.

“Never,” Hosea assured. “Go on, get out of here.”

Arthur nodded cautiously and turned away. He made it a few steps, before Hosea spoke again.

“Oh, and Arthur?” Hosea asked. Arthur looked back at him. “Tell her I say hello.”

He was still smiling, something that did reassure Arthur. Arthur nodded again, this time more reluctantly. He wasn’t thrilled Hosea knew this much, but Arthur trusted him plenty. Arthur hadn’t been able to keep Mary secret for long neither, they’d figured him out in a week.

Arthur went back to Whiskey and started away from camp. He still needed to tell Dutch, just for his own peace of mind. Dutch would be mad, certainly, but he wasn’t going to pass it off to Hosea. Not like Dutch could stop him, Arthur had his mind set. It’d been calm for the past week; Arthur felt alright leaving for a couple of days.

He was impatient the entire ride to Rhodes. Rhodes was a terrible town on a good day, but it was downright unbearable then. It was quite literally the last place he wanted to be, but all he had to do was find Dutch-

“Arthur,” Miguel called.

Arthur stopped Whiskey, surprise striking through him. He looked over at Miguel with a frown. He had a serious look in his eyes, something Arthur wasn’t especially used to. Daniel was nearby, a rifle in hand.

“What’s goin’ on?” Arthur asked.

“Your boys are in some real trouble,” Daniel growled.

“Grays are onto you, mi amigo,” Miguel said. “Heard your gang was workin’ with Braithwaites last week, didn’t think it was real. Double crossing in a small town never goes well.”

“What?” Arthur asked.

Both Miguel and Daniel stared at him. Arthur didn’t know exactly what the gang had been up to the past two weeks, he’d kept his nose clean. Bill had tried to talk him into a mission or two, but Arthur’s patience had been thin lately.

“Look up there,” Miguel said. He nodded his head to a nearby roof and sure enough, a man was stationed with a gun.

“And there’s your boys, about to walk into a trap,” Daniel scoffed lowly.

Arthur spotted them at the opposite edge of town. Arthur shifted back more into the alley way with the bounty hunters.

“What’s your plan then?” Arthur asked.

“Our plan?” Daniel repeated.

“We alerted you,” Miguel said with a shrug.

“Why you holding a pistol then?” Arthur demanded.

“Ah, you’re right,” Miguel said. “Just watching is never fun. I have a plan you will not approve of!”

“Hold on-“ Arthur started, but before he could finish Miguel aimed his pistol and shot.

The bullet landed close to Sean’s foot and instantly Sean jumped back. His gaze snapped around as he whirled his own rifle about. Sean was far from the best shot, but Arthur expected more. The boy was damn lucky it’d been Miguel that shot. Bill, Sean, and Micah all moved for cover. Arthur didn’t see Dutch anywhere. 

“Now what?” Arthur asked.

“I gave them a warning,” Miguel reasoned. “My work here is done. You do what you see fit!”

Arthur stared at Miguel in disbelief, but the pair had already started back out of the alley, to the outskirts of town. Gunshots sounded around them loudly, leaving Arthur with a difficult choice. He readied his own pistol as his gaze jumped around the town. He shot at a deputy as they passed his hiding spot. The man fell to the ground instantly.

He looked back towards the gang members to see instead of leaving, they were advancing through the town. Arthur frowned. He tried to shoot at who he could, but he didn’t have a particularly good angle. Instead of helping much, he was only able to graze a few people.

It didn’t make any goddamn sense to keep pushing. They’d survived the first trap, but here they were pushing on. Bunch of morons. Dutch had chosen the worst for this miserable excuse of a mission. Arthur didn’t even see Dutch anywhere; he had no idea where the bastard was hiding.

Arthur watched as Bill and Micah approached the gun store, Micah going in through the front while Bill around the side. Arthur started down the alley, following the bounty hunter’s escape. He whistled for Whiskey and mounted him.

“We were wondering what you would choose,” Miguel said.

Arthur jumped and spun to see them watching from a safe distance, Miguel wearing a smug smirk. He held out his hand and Daniel grumbled before he handed over a bill.

“Makin’ bets on me?” Arthur asked with a scowl.

“Since we met you!” Miguel laughed.

“Just get the hell out of here,” Arthur snapped. “I got plenty of problems already.”

Neither budged, but Arthur didn’t have time for them. Instead of waiting he guided Whiskey around to the other side of town. He kept his pistol drawn, shooting at who he could. Bullets flew towards him, but each missed. They were far more focused on the morons in the center of town.

Arthur wouldn’t deny it, he wanted to just leave. This felt like a bigger mess then it needed to be, just like with Strawberry. The escape had been there, but instead of leaving they decided to shoot more people.

He kept an eye on the town shootout, but as things seemed to calm down a thought crossed Arthur. He could leave, easily. None of the gang had even seen him, as far as they knew he was far from here. It was a horrible thought that had him cursing himself, but it persisted.

Before Arthur could make up his mind, Sean was shot. He’d been changing cover, gracelessly and foolishly. It didn’t look like a serious wound, just a shot to his arm, but it was his dominant arm. He wouldn’t be able to shoot after that. Sean tried and missed every damn shot.

“Goddammit,” Arthur groaned.

He helped keep the deputies at bay as he approached the town. He just needed to get Sean out, the others could get a bullet in the head for all he cared. Well- no, that wasn’t true. As much as Bill irritated him, he could be useful at times.

It seemed to calm down some, enough that Arthur was able to get close with Whiskey.

“Arthur?” Sean proclaimed. “Oh thank Christ! Thought I’d bleed out here!”

“Lucky you ain’t,” Arthur agreed. “C’mon.”

Arthur grabbed Sean’s hand and helped him up onto Whiskey.

“Christ, Arthur! Not like I’m injured or anything!” Sean said.

“Just shut up,” Arthur grumbled. “Got yourself into this mess, didn’t ya? Lucky it wasn’t your damn head instead of that arm.”

“I can still shoot just fine,” Sean said.

“Go on ahead then,” Arthur snapped. “I ain’t stoppin’ you, but I ain’t helping past this.”

Sean didn’t say anything, and Arthur took that as acceptance. Arthur looked up as the other two emerged from the gun store, guns blazing. They seemed ready to burn the whole damn town down, something Arthur wouldn’t participate in.

“Bill, Micah,” Arthur called. “I’m getting Sean out of here. Don’t get into anything you can’t handle.”

“Those sons of bitches tried to trick us-“ Bill snarled.

“And you walked straight into a trap!” Arthur shouted. “This is your own damn fault. I ain’t getting shot for it-“

“Lost your nerve, King Arthur?” Sean said.

Arthur glared at him and Sean smirked, but didn’t push it. Arthur spurred Whiskey away from the town, back towards the camp. Sean muttered something about his arm, but Arthur didn’t have the patience to listen.

He could be back with Juliette if he’d chosen to walk past Rhodes.

“Where are you going, cowboy?”

Arthur grimaced. He wasn’t in the mood for Miguel, not that he ever was. He still didn’t get why Juliette liked them. It wasn’t like they were the best company… not that he was either.

“How much you win?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing! You didn’t do either,” Miguel sighed. “I thought you would leave, and he thought you’d kill half the town.”

“Who the hell are you?” Sean asked. “Arthur Morgan, didn’t take you for-“

“None of your damn business,” Arthur said. “Keep quiet before I leave you here

Miguel laughed and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Why the hell are you even here?” Arthur demanded.

“Can’t we talk?” Miguel simpered. “We are friends are we not?”

“We ain’t anything,” Arthur corrected.

Again, Miguel laughed. Arthur didn’t like how amusing Miguel found him. He tried to ignore him and kept on going.

“Going to lead them back to our camp, Arthur,” Sean said under his breath.

“They won’t follow that far,” Arthur assured. “If they do, we can shoot ‘em.”

“Shoot us, Arthur?” Miguel repeated. “I’d like to see that! Couldn’t get us both, could you?”

Arthur looked between them. He wouldn’t say it, but he was pretty sure if he killed Miguel Daniel wouldn’t be hard. He was missing an eye, how good of a shot could he be? He’d survived Valentine and O’Driscolls, but Arthur didn’t how accurate his shot was.

“Considering it?” Miguel questioned.

“Just thinking ‘s all,” Arthur muttered. “You worried?”

“About you?” Daniel scoffed. “Kill us and you’re in a different kind of trouble.”

“We have immunity!” Miguel agreed eagerly.

“You want to see what kind of immunity you have?” Sean demanded.

Arthur heard him shift and instantly Arthur turned. He caught Sean’s wrist and twisted his hand, forcing him to let go of his pistol.

“Christ, Arthur! I only got the one good arm now,” Sean protested. “Going to break them both?!”

“Think for a goddamn second, boy,” Arthur said irritably. “Or do I gotta do that for you now?”

“Ay, I got a good head on my shoulders,” Sean said. “Smarter than any of ya, I’d say.”

“And yet you have a bullet in you,” Arthur reminded.

Arthur looked forward to see Miguel and Daniel were no longer riding by them. He frowned at them and brought Whiskey to a stop. He turned to watch them uneasily. He still didn’t understand their part in all this or why they’d saved him.

“Well?” Arthur asked.

“Well what, cowboy?” Miguel asked. 

“That it?” Arthur asked.

“For now,” Miguel agreed. “Unless you want more.”

Arthur grunted and firmly turned his back on them. He just had to get Sean to camp, then he could go back to Juliette. He repeated it his head like a mantra, with each step he was closer to leaving. He could pinpoint the exact moment Arthur had fallen out of love with gang life when they’d left him for dead. Sure, it weren’t on purpose. Still happened. He didn’t need to hear excuses or reasons, he understood perfectly what had happened. Dutch could blame him all he wanted, but he’d thrown the first stone.

Arthur shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about Dutch like an enemy, he wasn’t. He just was Dutch, always had been. Maybe Arthur had fooled himself along the line about what loyalty meant to him. He knew Hosea wouldn’t have left him like that and John probably wouldn’t neither.

“What’s goin’ on with you, Arthur?” Sean asked. “Having a thought? Must be scary-“

“Did you or did you not just walk into a trap?!” Arthur retaliated, heat rising in his voice.

“Oi, you’re easy to rile today,” Sean mumbled. “You would’ve walked into it just the same as me.”

“I ain’t the one bleeding.”

That shut Sean up for a little while, but Arthur knew it wouldn’t last. Sean was a lot of things, but quiet wasn’t one of them. Arthur made sure to get back to camp before Sean regained his strength to speak.

“Can I get some help here?” Arthur shouted into the camp.

He dismounted Whiskey and helped Sean down, not as gently as Sean would like.

“You’re going to kill me, Arthur!” Sean exclaimed dramatically.

“Would’ve shout you in town if I wanted you dead,” Arthur promised. “No one would’ve known it was me.”

“Planned it, have you?” Sean questioned. He seemed torn between humor and fear. “Ah… knew you thought of me.”

“Mhm.”

Lenny was the first to move towards them, a look of worry crossing him fiercely.

“Is he okay?” Lenny asked.

“Ay, I’m plenty alright,” Sean said. “Arthur made a big deal out of-“

“He’s your problem now,” Arthur said.

He pushed Sean towards Lenny and Lenny helped Sean. Sean was all too grateful for the attention and leaned against Lenny like he was seconds from death. Arthur rubbed at his eyes. He couldn’t deal with this.

“And you called me dramatic for getting clawed by wolves,” John said in disbelief. “Doesn’t look like they shot your legs.”

“Internal damage,” Sean promised. “All caused by Arthur!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur snapped.

He mounted Whiskey again, earning several looks. Grimshaw approached them, already looking frustrated. She complained about their lack of medical equipment, ushering Arthur to buy more in town, specifically the entire store. Arthur had no such plans and didn’t even humor it.

“Where are you going?” John asked.

“I’ll be back,” Arthur said. “All that matters.”

John didn’t seem convinced, but Arthur didn’t need to explain anything to him. John had left them for an entire year, Arthur would be lucky if he got a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is pretty short mostly bc... another town shoot out and i just didn't want to write an intricate one which to be fair I think it works out  
I started writing this chapter with a different timeline in mind and from jules's pov (bc of a particular scene i 100% want from her perspective) but then I decided to move up the town shoot out. I think this actually will work out better? Just bc the transition to saint denis will be smoother. my initial plan was to do the next chapter before this one and I got halfway through it before realizing the timeline would be messy if i didn't do this first  
we're also approaching one of my favorite scenes! it's not for a couple more chapters but even being this close has me excited haha  
I am going to try and get the next chapter out quick to get you guys the late night scene ! I'm not going explicit with burning but I think I found a good level for it  
but thanks for reading!! I needed a pick me up this week and updates always help me :') Let me know what you guys think!!


	26. An Unsaid Fact

It was an unsaid fact that Arthur would always return to his gang. Juliette did not like to think about it long or even bring it up. Every time he left, it got harder. Juliette wanted to ask him to stay, and she knew he wanted to. Yet each time, he left.

That morning he left with a promise of a quick return. Juliette was uncertain how much she believed him, enough so Arthur asked, “Don’t trust me?”

Juliette smiled slowly and shrugged. Trust was no longer an issue despite how unpredictable his life was. Easily something could happen that would stop him, and it seemed it did. Juliette did not know what quick meant to Arthur, but she was certain it was not hours. She was in no rush and waited without hesitation.

It was a cool morning, dew still clinging to the grass. Clouds drifted overhead, white, and full. There was a low murmur of wildlife, but nothing dared stray close. Fleur seemed to enjoy the time off, she grazed nearby. As Juliette moved, Fleur looked to keep an eye on her. Fleur was an incredibly loyal creature, she would follow Juliette as far as she could and wait patiently for her return.

Juliette found it was harder to relax on her own. Arthur provided welcome distraction from her own worries. It did not take long for Juliette to retrieve the letter from her bag. The words were still seared into her mind, a familiar voice echoing loudly in her mind. Distantly Juliette drummed her fingers against her leg.

She was starting to wonder if she had gone far enough. Perhaps it would have been better to not even give a hint where she ran off to, left without a trace. Her sister would worry, but… Juliette sighed. She did not have the strength to do that back then. She had felt alone then and was desperate to believe she was wrong.

There was not much of a fire left, but Juliette decided to toss the letter into it. It was better than reading it endlessly, hunting for hints of their true intentions. It was no easier now than in France. Juliette did not even watch as it burned, but instead started to deconstruct their camp. Arthur would be back, and he had said he wanted to travel somewhere. He’d been awfully secretive about it, only asking she wait.

Juliette approached Fleur slowly. Fleur looked up at her, her warm brown eyes watching Juliette closely. She flicked an ear, before lowering her head. Gently Juliette patted her, running her hand against Fleur’s neck. She was smooth and silky to the touch, the slight markings on her back more obvious in the sunlight.

“_You have been good_,” Juliette murmured, defaulting to French while Arthur was gone.

Juliette had never owned a pet, not one that was hers. Her father had hunting dogs from time to time, but they were not kept at the estate. After months with Fleur, Juliette could not imagine a life without her.

Eventually, Arthur did return. He took long enough Juliette had started to wonder if he would come back.

“Find trouble?” Juliette questioned as he approached.

“Somethin’ like that,” Arthur said lowly. “Run with a bunch of idiots, apparently.”

“Your gang?” Juliette asked.

“Walked into a trap,” Arthur explained. “Doesn’t matter. They’re fine.”

“Now what will you do?”

“Stay with you, if you’ll have me,” Arthur said with a slight smile.

“Always,” Juliette said without hesitation. “Where are we going?”

“North, I was thinking,” Arthur said.

He pulled a map from his satchel and approached Juliette. He unfolded it and held it out for her to examine. Juliette accepted it and glanced it over. It was a map of the area, with small drawings of animals. A few were crossed off, while others remained. One of the crossed off drawings was different from the others, it looked like someone else had drawn it entirely. Juliette ran her thumb against it. It was a lion.

“Did you draw this?” Juliette asked.

“I- well-“ Arthur struggled to find the words, but Juliette gave him time. “Yeah. Just somethin’… to pass the time.”

“I think it is lovely,” Juliette promised. Juliette hesitated a moment before continuing, “I would like to see your journal someday.”

She examined his response, testing the waters. He didn’t seem outright against it, but not as confident as he had been before. He shifted his weight to his heels with a shrug.

“Ain’t all that,” Arthur promised.

“Still,” Juliette said.

Arthur pointed towards a small drawing of a buffalo a fair distance north of Valentine.

“Thinkin’ we should go look at that,” Arthur said. “Might be a good picture… and you won the bet after all.”

Juliette’s smile grew. This was not quite what she had wanted, but it was as close as they could get. She certainly appreciated the effort, more than words could express. So, she didn’t try, instead she kissed him gently. He seemed to brighten at this, his eyes shining as she moved back.

“Lead the way then.”

Time seemed to lose meaning as they traveled. Hours passed in seconds; quick enough Juliette was inclined to believe she had checked the pocket watch wrong. Yet the shifting terrain made it clear just how far they had gone. No longer were they in the dusty south, but instead were approaching the fields of the heartlands. Arthur estimated it would take them a few days travel to reach the point and that they would not want to stay too long. According to him, it was incredibly cold where they were heading. Juliette did not particularly care where they were going or where they would be, all that mattered was he was taking her there.

As they travelled, they encountered a few others. No more than in passing, a few nods and greetings were exchanged, but that was it. Juliette preferred it this way, she noticed Arthur tense with each new person. It was like he was waiting for a duel to start. Perhaps it would, she had no idea how many enemies he had here. She didn’t want to know, not then.

It wasn’t until early evening that they did pause. Juliette spotted a man off the side of the road with his horse, holding its rear hoof in his hand. Juliette felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if she had witnessed this before.

“That does not look safe,” Juliette said to Arthur.

“It ain’t,” Arthur agreed. He glanced to Juliette before calling to the man, “Want some help, mister?” 

He looked up at them, holding a handkerchief to his forehead. Sweat beaded across it, under the brim of a dark ranching hat. He nodded, but Juliette could not see if he smiled under his bushy mustache.

“That’d be great-“

As he spoke, the gray horse took off. He chased after it a few paces, before panting heavily. He swore lowly.

“That’s a shame,” Arthur commented.

Without any prompting Arthur guided Whiskey off of the road and after the horse. Juliette watched as Arthur sped on Whiskey, quickly catching up with the horse. He pulled his lasso and with one movement brought it into the air, spinning it. With a quick jerk of his hand, he sent the lasso sailing through the air. It caught around the horse’s neck and as the horse started to rear, Arthur dropped off Whiskey and dug his heels in the ground. From this distance Juliette could barely see his lips moving as he calmed the horse. It all had happened in moments, and as she blinked he was heading back. Juliette smiled and waited patiently.

The man thanked Arthur profusely, before setting off in the opposite direction. Arthur watched him a moment, still somehow suspicious, before returning to Juliette’s side.

As they continued Juliette said, “That was very impressive.” 

“What was?” Arthur asked in confusion.

“You,” Juliette chuckled. “Catching that horse, you calmed it quickly.”

It seemed like he’d done it naturally, there was no hesitation in his movements. He had mentioned before Whiskey a wild horse, and now Juliette found herself wishing she had seen that encounter.

Arthur shrugged and said, “Ain’t really all that.”

“I thought it was,” Juliette said.

“Plenty of folks coulda-“

“Arthur,” Juliette sighed. “Accept my compliment, please. I thought it was impressive, does not matter to me if someone else can do it. It matters that _you _did it. Someone else would not have been nearly as impressive.”

“How’s that?”

“I am fond of you,” Juliette said.

Arthur stared at Juliette a long moment with a slow smile.

“Do I have to explain it more?” Juliette asked in good humor.

“Nah,” Arthur assured with a small shake of his head. He chuckled gently.

They did not make it much farther down the road, quickly the clouds overhead grew dark and threatening. They decided it would be best to camp until either the storm passed or the next morning. The moment they stepped into the cover of the tent; it began to pour. Arthur was not quite as lucky as Juliette, half of his shirt ended up being soaked as he stepped in.

Juliette smiled.

“I hope you have another shirt,” Juliette said. She spoke at a normal level, but under the pounding rain it sounded quiet.

“’Course,” Arthur agreed.

He pulled off his hat and let the caught rain cascade out. Before he could set it on his head once more, Juliette caught his hand. He stared at her in surprise, his entire focus suddenly on her. Juliette’s smile grew, pleased by his reaction. She liked catching Arthur off guard.

She stole away his hat, but he hardly noticed. Juliette set it aside, before her hand settled against his cheek. Cautiously he leaned into it, his eyes soft and hesitant. His hands brushed against her delicately, as if the slightest touch could cause her to crumble to dust. Juliette stared at him with a slow smile, her thumb running against his jaw. Stubble gently tugged at her skin, coarse beneath her.

“Arthur,” Juliette murmured.

Arthur’s hand jolted away from her, but before he could go far, she caught him. Firmly she guided his hand back, leading it towards loose fabric.

“I am not going anywhere,” Juliette said. “Are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Arthur whispered, his voice low and rumbling.

Juliette kissed him tenderly, tugging gently at the buttons of his shirt. Cigarette smoke still clung to him, the smell wrapping around her. He tasted of whiskey, something Juliette found strangely endearing. It made sense for a cowboy to name a horse after his favorite drink. It took all her strength not to drown in him, to keep herself focused.

His hands were against her, resting awkwardly and without purpose. Juliette guided them, trying to remind him of distant pleasures. His palms were rough and calloused from work, turned gentle near her. She kept her hands over his, leading him. She appreciated his sense of caution, neither wanted something fleeting.

Juliette had found love in all the wrong places. Perhaps love was a strong term, she wasn’t certain she understood what it was until Arthur. She had spent a reckless night or two with people she barely knew, to find momentary escape. Her reality then was an arranged marriage and eventually kids. Neither happened. Doubt was a natural reaction, questioning as to what was wrong. With her, particularly. None of it should have been as hard as it was, her sister had gotten married young and had a child shortly after. Now she was on child two. Juliette moved slow, at a glacial pace. It wasn’t until Camille that Juliette understood it was not just her, but Edmond as well. Two ill fitted pieces forced together.

Arthur was not that. He seemed as anxious as a wild horse at times, ready to bolt at the slightest change. He had been ready for her to banish him. Slow and steady was their natural progression, both weary from experience, and weathered from past sins. Nothing about it was forced or expected. It felt natural, as if every choice she made led her here.

Arthur was a choice. This night was a choice.

It was easy to forget who they were in the moment. It didn’t matter. As clothes were shed, identity was forgotten. Worries were abandoned, replaced instead with a new fervor.

There was a lot about Arthur she found attractive, despite his insistence he was nothing. He was a pretty face, certainly. Old enough that any boyish features were worn away, turned hard lines, but young enough his eyes were bright and attentive. There was something about his eyes, truly. A brilliant blue, with a stark intelligence. He was perceptive and vigilant. As her hands glided against his bare skin, she could feel lithe muscle. She found a long trailing scar, one that would reside under his clothes normally. His breath was heavy against her neck.

“What is this from?” Juliette asked quietly.

“Panther,” Arthur answered, already breathless.

There was no doubt in her mind that he had plenty of stamina. Years without touch left him unprepared for this night, but Juliette was more than willing to relearn together.

“Panther?” Juliette repeated. “That was all it left?”

“Fang in my arm, too,” Arthur mumbled as if it was unimportant.

Juliette froze and Arthur reached for her hand. His hand was unbelievably warm as it guided hers to settle over a dip in his upper arm, just below his shoulder. It fit the pad of her thumb perfectly, the groove winding into a fractured scar. It was hard to see him in the dim lighting, inspect the scars properly, but Juliette found this all the more enticing.

Her hand shifted up to rest against his cheek, guiding him to her. She kissed him deeply, his lips parting easily against hers. Stubble nipped against her as she felt his nails drag against her skin. She shivered from the contact.

Everything seemed to fall into place as they each found a rhythm.

Time melted together, until the roar of the rain was a quiet hum. It was cold out, but Arthur’s skin was warm against hers, still a blazing fire. Juliette shifted closer towards him and immediately his arm tightened around her.

When the morning came, Juliette found herself wishing for more time. Except, unlike most days there was not a deadline. Arthur had no reason to rush off that morning and seemed even more reluctant than her.

They did continue their adventure, but it was far later than they planned. Both horses seemed content by the slow start. They kept to a slow pace while following the trails. There were fewer people out that day, and as they passed a house Juliette realized why. The storm had been much worse further north, one of the homesteads they passed had a branch through a shed. It didn’t take much to decide they needed to move quicker. It seemed unlikely for another storm to pick up, but Juliette would rather be on the safe side.

Arthur seemed to grow less anxious the further they went, as they neared the Heartlands, he was no longer checking over his shoulder. All too easily Juliette found her thoughts wandering to what their life could be in a few years. It was easy to forget about his gang when they were alone.

“Do you prefer the West?” Juliette asked.

Her question came seemingly out of nowhere, and it had been a sudden thought. Juliette had no plans to ever venture farther west than Strawberry, but now she wondered if Arthur did. Arthur didn’t answer her immediately and took a surprising amount of time to consider it. She’d expected a knee jerk answer, he was a cowboy in a gang and the west was lawless.

“I uh…” Arthur started slowly. “I don’t know anymore.”

Juliette looked over at him and Arthur shrugged halfheartedly. He adjusted his hat and glanced towards the sky once more, checking the clouds.

“That’s not really an answer,” Juliette said.

“Well… if you’d asked me a couple weeks back, I probably would’ve said yes,” Arthur said. “I ain’t so sure anymore. Seems like it was a lot of trouble. Not much law, but…” Again, he shrugged. “I don’t know. Bad memories, I reckon.”

Juliette nodded slowly. She could understand that.

They traveled through Emerald Ranch. They’d cleaned up the place nicely since the lion, there was not much evidence there had been one. The only sign remaining was a destroyed fence. Arthur kept his head low, and Juliette smiled. Even here he didn’t want to be recognized.

As they left the ranch Juliette said, “I think they would be happy to see you.”

“Don’t know about that,” Arthur said. “Ain’t many people happy to see you.”

“You make Miguel quite happy,” Juliette said, amusement shining her words.

“Reckon so,” Arthur chuckled. “Not particularly for reasons I like, if I’m honest.”

“He’s harmless,” Juliette said. “And he did save you. I think you are strong enough for him to have his fun.”

Arthur looked over at her and couldn’t argue against her smile. With a small shake of his head he conceded, “Reckon so.”

As they passed through a meadow, Juliette spotted a herd of wild horses. Immediately she slowed Fleur to a halt, her eyes entranced on one horse in particular.

“That’s a silver dapple pinto,” Arthur provided. “Ain’t seen one in the wild before.”

“Really?” Juliette asked in surprise.

Arthur nodded and offered, “We could stop ‘n get a picture. Ain’t a cowboy, but-“ Juliette looked him over and Arthur shook his head, “I could herd ‘em for a picture.”

“Not a cowboy,” Juliette repeated. “I saw you lasso a horse earlier.”

“Want my help?” Arthur asked. It was clear no matter her answer, he would help. He was still smiling, humor ringing in his voice.

Juliette was more than happy to oblige. The horse truly was gorgeous. A light gray, dappled with white spots, and a pure white mane. Arthur split off once Juliette found a good location and trailed behind the herd, keeping them together.

“_Have you seen a horse like that_?” Juliette murmured to Fleur. 

Fleur shook her head, but only because of a fly. Juliette smiled, some part of her wanting to take it as an answer. So she did.

“_Neither have I,_” Juliette said.

True to his word, Arthur guided the horses back once Juliette was ready. They started to run and Arthur stopped Whiskey just short of the frame. Truthfully, Juliette would not have minded Arthur in the picture. She had come to appreciate portraiture because of him. Juliette liked having photos of him, mementos in case… well she did not like to think about it.

Arthur returned after a few moments, still tracking the pinto with his gaze.

“What d’you reckon?” Arthur asked.

“I think you’re a great cowboy,” Juliette told him.

“Yeah?” Arthur questioned.

He dismounted Whiskey and wandered towards her side. Thoughtlessly, his arm settled around her. Juliette smiled a little and Arthur quickly noticed, surprise swarming him.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“Nothing,” Juliette reassured.

Any hint of nervousness had vanished from him. In that moment, Juliette had no regrets. All of her mistakes had led her here, to this meadow, to this encounter, to Arthur. She understood now what it was to trust someone completely, to have no doubts or reservations. Wherever this path led, it was the one Juliette wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took so long!! I kept it in editing hell longer than I meant  
i'm not super used to writing this type of scene which is ironic considering this is 100% a romance fic xD but!! i hope you guys liked it c':   
I'm thinking burning will be finished around like 35ish chapters? I think I've got a rough timeline of how I want the next chapters to go but we'll see how closely i stick to that  
anyway thanks for reading!! and thanks so much for the support on this ;; I really appreciate it <3


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